Lost Hope Rekindled
by BlackDawnYaoilover
Summary: Alfred and Ivan are sworn enemies, but they can do things together that no one else could survive. Their relationship, broken and damaged for more than a century, takes a dramatic turn one tense night as Alfred visits Ivan by government force. When Alfred breaks down, can Ivan push away his bitter exterior and realize his feelings which never went away? WARNING bestiality sex lang.


((A little rp between my Alfred and an Ivan on facebook. I may add to it later, but as of now, this could go as a complete oneshot. It all depends on it he writes back enough.))  
_**!WARNING!**_  
**Bestiality and sexual activities  
Language**  
**Fighting  
YAOI  
GUY ON GUY ACTION  
GAY PORN  
GET IT?  
ALSO DOG ON GUY ACTION TOO... :D  
**

No matter how old a country is, periodically it is necessary to engage in diplomatic relations to ensure cooperation and strength of unity. Occasionally, there will be a visit to one home, and then a reciprocating visit later on. As it was, almost six months ago, Ivan had taken a trip to America and had arrived at an empty home, to learn that the man had 'forgotten' and was instead in England. Rather than dropping by London, he merely returned to Russia and relations went down. It's been causing economical issues, and as such, he had a message on his answering machine stating that a visit from Alfred would be occurring sometime soon.

Ivan, of course, didn't particularly expect the visit to really happen, so now he sits in his living room, Alfred sitting on the couch across from him—and it is only slightly awkward. Ivan is in civilian wear—a black, thin tank top, exposing his entire shoulder and clavicle area, followed by a pair of denim of the same color. His white hair is damp, resting against his cheeks, and his skin is pale and cold. Glancing to the side, he wonders if he should offer the guy some Vodka, but doesn't really want to give America any.

Beside him, sitting on the couch, are a couple hungry looking Rott Weilers, skinny and vicious in appearance. They continually begin to growl and Ivan looks to them and they quiet.

"… Can I… Get you something?"

Alfred shifted uncomfortably on the formal couch, blue eyes glancing anywhere but the Russian sitting across from him. What had possessed his boss to make him come over here? Didn't he know they didn't get along? Each time they tried to have the customary personal meetings between themselves it always ended up with either a huge fight or Alfred storming out because the CIA or whatever the Russian equivalent was came rushing because he was going for his pistol.

It never ended well, so why even bother? Alfred sighed, tucking his thick bomber jacket tighter around him to block out the crisp air of the other's "heated" abode. He buried his nose in the comforting fluffy collar of his jacket, glancing at Ivan.

"Do you have any sweet tea or soda?" he asked, knowing the other wouldn't. All he ever had was vodka.

Ivan raised a brow and leaned back in his set, crossing both arms. These two hadn't had a good relationship in a long time, and even now, they were very far from close. He could remember a time when Alfred would have sat on the same couch, sharing some soda because Ivan wanted to take good care of the boy. Now, they sit in annoyance with one another while he tries to prepare a statement that doesn't sound like 'of course I don't you fucking idiot'. Clearing his throat, voice thick with an accent, he shrugs his shoulders, crossing one leg over the other.

"Nyet. Is only having Vodka." The answer was obvious; he doesn't really know why Alfred even bothered to ask such a ridiculous question. Absently, he pets an animal beside him, bored, as he looks the other man over.

"Alfred, let's cutting to chase, da? I am disrespected, what are you doing to make up for it?"

"Why should I do anything?" Alfred retorted, shrugging, the action almost lost in his thick jacket. "You're the reason you're disrespected, shouldn't you be the one making up for it?"

Alfred scowled a bit, leaning back against his stiff seat. He never enjoyed these talks and for as long as he could remember they'd been enemies. Why couldn't he be over at Iggy's or Gilbert's house? At least at Gilbert's he'd have some beer to get wasted on.

The animals around Ivan made Alfred think of his pets back in his land and he wanted to curl up with his little bunny and watch an action movie. Snuffles always liked sitting on his back and watching a good Bond or Indiana Jones movie with him.

"Is alright, you can choose to doing nothing." Considering it, he usually let Alfred just get away with these things, and he wasn't particularly excited at the prospect of continuing such an irresponsible relationship. Clearing his throat, the animals began growling low, and he proceeded to inspect Alfred's demeanor. Ivan never really appreciated the way Alfred behaved with him, and he supposed that now was as good a time as any to fix it.

"Is okay, because what is happen from this point on really is out of your control, da?" Nodding towards Alfred, the animals snapped up, snarls appeared on their snouts.

"Perhaps is join me for a drink?"

The American frowned at the other's words, ignoring the animals with practiced ease. He could take them if they tried anything so they didn't bother him in the least. But Ivan's words held an odd edge to them and he watched him with a wary eye. "Why should I have anything to drink with you? It's not like we're here for a treaty or anything. Even your animals are commie bastards. Just look at them." The blond glared down at the snarling beasts disdainfully. He really didn't like the way "what happens next is out of your control" sounded coming from the Russian.

"Nyet, Alfred, we are democracy now." Looking to the dogs, then back to Alfred, he is suggesting that three vs. one means they win. The smile slowly begins as he sinks into the situation. Yes, he's really going to do this, and yeah, Alfred is really going to be pretty furious. As a matter of fact, that was part of the excitement involved. He liked the defiant look in the boy's eyes, and he could appreciate the fire there.

Standing, it was easy to find a bottle of Vodka, and he clinked two glasses together. Pouring, he leaned and set the cup on an end table just beside Alfred. It was up to him if he drank it. Sitting back on the couch, he sips and then rests the beverage in his lap.

"We should improve relations, da?"

Alfred narrowed his bright eyes at the other, taking the glass and cradling it in his lap as he watched the other. He sneered at the dogs, more of a rabbit and cat person, also, they were Ivan's dog, they weren't fit to be called dogs.

The young man wondered what the Russian had in mind as he sipped at the vodka, eyes never straying from the other's form. "Relations?" He asked, wondering what meaning was behind the short sentence.

"What do you mean by that?" He gave him a cold look, void of trust and guarded, just as he always was whenever he visited the Russian out of diplomatic responsibilities.

Alfred didn't trust him, and that was of no surprise—or consequence in that. Rather, that was healthy. Sure, they'd been close at one point in time, but here and there they'd picked up distance, and now they were practically strangers. A smile began and he lifted the glass to his lips—Adam's apple rising as falling as he drinks.

"Is about time we are making friends, da? Is been so long since I am see you smile, comrade." They don't need to make a treaty, it wasn't even about that. Simply, being on better terms was good for everyone.

"Hopefully your ego is not get in way of helping your country." It was vital that he point out Alfred's behavior, and that he paint it as a negative. Of course, Alfred would say 'no', and if diplomatic relations fell, it would be because the USA was unwilling to put in effort—and Russia would take no blame.

"Would you like to helping your people, Alfred?"

"I would, if you weren't always planning something behind my back." Alfred countered with an edge to his voice. "And maybe I would smile if you actually gave me a reason to, but instead you insult me and say things that are purposefully trying to rile me up."

Honestly, how could that man even think that after all they've been through they could be friends? They had beaten each other into the ground countless times and whenever they were together "alone" their governments still didn't trust them not to kill each other.

"Alright, let's hear it, how are we going to be best buds?" He asked, crossing his arms over his chest after setting the glass down.

Ivan chuckles, offering his glass to one of the dogs beside him. The animal laps at the fluid, unaffected by the taste; almost like it's used to it by now. Considering his options here, he wonders if he can blatantly outsmart the other man, or if he should take some other course of action. Alfred might be a fool, but if anyone knows Ivan, it's him- they had been close before, had loved one another, and after things with awry they were left with this painful, terrible relationship.

Alfred is formidable. Ivan determines to work the man's weaknesses, maybe add some truth to his words to make them slightly more legitimate. No matter what he says, America won't believe him entirely, so exposing some things won't effectively hurt him.

"I miss you." His eyes had been on the ground, inspecting his shoes, so when he lifts his gaze to Alfred, his expression is neutral. The admittance sounds more like a confession, but he's not about to worry about how something 'sounds'- he has a goal here, a personal one.

"I am thinking that we could spending some time together. Maybe you can staying couple days, perhaps is good."

"Uh huh." He said, unbelieving and untrusting. He eyed the Russian from his seat, contemplating what he was trying to pull on him. The other was manipulative, sly, and merciless, missing him might only mean that he missed picking on him and putting him down.

"I don't believe that my boss would approve of me staying past my agreed time." He said, definitely not eager to stay alone with the tall man for more than a day. The blond watched every motion, each shift of his eyes, how he was sitting and how he said and worded his sentences. Everything told him something about what the Russian was thinking and preparing to do. Blue eyes narrowed to twin points as he read his body language. Even with the seemingly innocent expression and motions, something about the way he held his body gave him away.

Ivan is a very calculated person, and more than that, he knows that Alfred is intelligent. He knows that his general motions and movements will be scrutinized, and thus, that he has to be careful about what he exposes. Anything he does must be intentional: Ivan is in control of his body, not the other way around.

The doubt in Alfred's voice was thick.

"Mm, da, I understand. I am forgetting that you are not boss." His tone is somewhat disappointed, but he does not let on that this is a partial jab: America does not make his own decisions, someone else does. Shrugging, his shoulders slouch just the slightest and he leans back, allowing himself to relax. After all, he's not the one sitting with a threatening person. Alfred may be strong as a nation, but he is weak in constitution.

"Oh well. A drink, then." Lifting the glass again, he does a cheers motion- finishes off his glass.

"I think you are forgetting you are not boss either." Alfred countered, mimicking the Russian's accent. "You would have to tell your boss before either of us could make any plans for staying longer."

The American watched the man, knowing that the relaxed stance was to show that he wasn't scared or intimidated by the blond. Alfred knew enough about Ivan to know that this was a power play, showing him up so he made a wrong move and gave him an opportunity. But the younger nation held strong, keeping his body ready and taking comfort in the bulge of his pistol against his thigh.

Listening, he could appreciate the mock- mild irritation. That was always an attractive feature in Alfred; it made his brows curve and his eyes narrow, then sometimes his lips would curve into a semi-malicious grin. Ivan loved that side of Alfred, truly.

"Da, you are right. I would telling my boss, not ask. Is alright, I am not minding if you can not having sleep over." Chuckling softly, he allows sarcasm to creep into his voice. Alfred is an interesting man, that's for sure.

"So, tell me- Are you afraid, da? You are scared to staying?"

"Pfft, why would I be scared of a wimp like you?" Alfred asked, his voice mockingly serious. He met the Russian eye to eye, leveling a stoic expression on him. It was one he had worn to many meetings throughout the Cold War, hiding his anger and hatred behind a mask that others thought was simply from the stress of their tension. Ivan knew, though, because he wore a similar mask, aiming an innocent little smile at him every time they met in the meetings. He knew what was really behind his smooth expression, hate, anger, excitement. Excitement because Ivan was the only other nation in the entire world that could meet him hit for hit and still get up and fight some more.

Verbal attacks, in regards to their relationship, might as well be considered foreplay. Ivan had an intense enjoyment for these moments, and he only enjoyed them more when Alfred took to the offensive. The fact that America felt the need to attack is what made his loins stir- Ivan reminds himself that hate is much stronger than love, and as far as that goes, they've got it bad.

"Is valid question; why else would Alfred- the hero- making excuses to leave? I thought you are wanting to improve relations, da? Is easy to say- I am understand; I am not caring about my people, either, so is no problem for me."

"False." Alfred said, picking at his nails for a moment. The neat ovals gleamed in the soft light of the Russian's living room. "You were the one that wanted to "improve relations"."

"Perhaps I do not want to stay because I have other plans. Unlike some people," He paused a brief second to put emphasis on the words. ", I actually interact with others on a socially acceptable level. Maybe I'm going to see Arthur, or play futbol with Gilbert and Ludwig." His bright eyes narrowed mischievously. "Or maybe I'm going to get laid. Wouldn't want you to interfere with my love life."

Something about Alfred trying to make him jealous struck a chord. It was annoying. At one point in time, they'd been close- lovers, even- and were reduced to this sort of petty drivel. Ivan didn't like this at all, and he especially found that Alfred's methods at bothering him were almost as underhanded as his own.

The facade is dropped.

A slow smile creeps over his features, eyes alight with mirth. These games had always been fun for him, and that was still true, now. That was alright, he still had a couple cards up his sleeve.

"Da, perhaps I will, too." Then he looks to the fireplace. Rising, he bends and picks up a log.

"Is easy. I am go to Arthur-" Setting the wood on the fire, "I implying that if he does not giving me what I wanting, I will hurt you," and he crumples up a piece of newspaper. Striking the match, he lights the ball and stuff it under the large pieces. Smiling, then, he glances over his shoulder to the man, rising.

"And his legs spread."

Alfred's lips twisted into a sneer and he bared his teeth at the other. Threatening someone he loved like that was something only Ivan thought to do. "You're despicable, you know that? I don't know why I haven't just bombed the hell out of this miserable piece of shit yet."

The blond sipped at his vodka again, enjoying the burn as it slid down his throat. The jab would have Ivan bristling in his coat and he would fire back with just as much acid and zest. This sort of back and forth made Alfred's blood pump faster and he eagerly anticipated every reply shot back at him and his other self came out, the one that only came out to play when Ivan was around. This Alfred was the one that thrived on pain and fighting, that nearly replaced him during the Cold War.

Alfred likes games, and most people don't know this. Ivan knows perfectly well how much his comrade enjoys some 'friendly jest'. There's no point being coy now, because he already let Alfred inside, already let him see what was hiding beneath the smile.

"I never say 'spread your legs or I will make Alfred', but because he thinks he knows me, he opens them for me- I say to him 'You don't wanting to? Perhaps Alfred, then-' and he begs me for it. When I am inside him, he moans, and he calls your name, da?" Laughing now, he admits he has a bit of a cruel streak. How long will it take before Alfred becomes hostile? He can feel his arousal awakening just thinking about it.

"At first, I am thinking he only does it for protecting you, but each time- his fluid is thick, and now, sometimes, he is hard before I am even touching him-" Then he laughs, "Should I telling you about Matthew?"

Alfred's teeth clicked together sharply as he clenched his jaw. What a cheap shot. The American's fingers caressed his pistol's handle in a calculating manner, blue eyes watching the Russian. "Perhaps I should blow your head into little fragments if you so much as look at my little brother again?"

There was no touching siblings, Ivan knew that. He didn't go near Ukraine or Belarus and Ivan didn't touch Matthew, that was an unspoken rule of theirs. If Ivan had broken it then he would have full rights to smash his head against the hearth and fill his chest with lead. He didn't care so much about Arthur, he could handle himself if things got out of hand, but Matthew, Matthew was thin and frail and always getting hurt. Anyone who tried to mess with him got the barrel of a gun shoved in their chest and a brightly grinning Alfred promising certain death if they so much as blinked wrong from then on.

"You know that we don't die, Alfred. In time, I will heal, and then how will I getting back at you? I can thinking of lots to take from you. You have a lot to lose." His eyes flickered down to the pistol, and back up. A knowing smile warmed over his features. This was familiar; he enjoyed it- thrived in it. There was nothing he could think of that he loved better than banter with Alfred. It was the only thing that made him feel alive again: Alfred was his connection to the world.

"Is not worry, da? I am not touching him." He tries to hold back his amusement, but it shines through. That is, however, a way to avoid that perhaps he makes the boy do other things.

Sitting on an arm of the couch, he slicks tongue over teeth and bites his lower lip.

"Yet."

Alfred growled lowly, eyes promising pain. "You know better, Commie." He said in a soft voice, standing up in a fluid motion that he reserved for moments like these. People thought he was stupid and clumsy. Perhaps he was a bit clumsy when he didn't concentrate on what he was doing, but in moments like these when a deadly aura surrounded him his every thought was on intimidating the person who had gotten on his bad side and making them wish they had never been thought of.

He took a few long strides across the living room, smile stretching his lips with a deadly gleam of white, even teeth showing. The pistol was whipped out of its carefully maintained holster and the barrel pressed against the jaw of the Russian in front of him in less than half a second. The little smile didn't waver and his eyes glittered brightly. "What was that?" The blond asked in a deadly soft voice, smiling contrasting the quiet tone.

The reaction was fast, and if it hadn't been Ivan watching, there might have been a sound of surprise. He was familiar with this Alfred, and kept his eyes trained on all matter of movement: The eyebrows flinching for a brief moment, the sudden jolt as Alfred set in motion, the beginning of a grin, the glint off the metal. Standing still, he doesn't bother to defend, and simply accepts the movement.

A cold, solid gun presses to his jaw and he feels his cock twitch. Ah, this is bad. If Alfred wanted to seduce him, they could have gone about this in an easier manner. Eyes trained on his opponent, he tilts his chin away, and then adjusts, his tongue licks from the base of the barrel to the tip, in one long, suggestive motion. Hands reaching, they catch hip and drag Alfred forward, closer.

"And just what are you going to do with this?"

The hands on his hips, strong and firm, made Alfred shiver in excitement and he growled again, less in anger this time. "I'm going to shove it up your ass and pull the trigger." The blond said, lifting the pistol, glistening with Ivan saliva, and pressing it forcefully against his lips.

They always danced on this ledge, toeing the line between enemy and lover and never really giving in to either. Whenever they took their fights to the bedroom, or the nearest surface to press one another against, it was just another physical representation of their fight. They struggled over dominance, taking one another roughly and without mercy. When they were done, they were sated in body but just as distant and close as before.

When the chamber was presented, he didn't bother hesitating- took the metal into his mouth easily, an eyebrow rising. Is this what Alfred had come for? It's no surprise, after all, Alfred sometimes has needs that can't be met by anyone else. Angry? Come fight with Russia. Drunk and horny? Russia will gladly wipe the floor with you, give you what you need, and send you on your way. Even now, his hands were slinking around, gripping buttocks through fabric. Spreading his legs, he invites the other man closer- drags their groins together and lets the weapon fall from his mouth.

"Alfred-" he begins the words, voice deep and measured, licking the excess saliva from his lips. "I am going to fuck you."

The young nation suppressed a delighted shiver at the throaty words, pressing their hips together. "Only if you can make me." He challenged, narrowing his eyes as he whipped the thick scarf from the other's neck. It was coiled securely around Ivan's wrists in no time, tying them together to the point where the blood couldn't circulate.

Alfred lowered his head, tilting the other's chin up with his gun, licking the Russian's lips before biting down harshly on his bottom lip. No one else on earth could do what they did with each other. Anyone else would faint from the pain or lose their mind. Humans were too fragile, easily broken or scared. Nations, ones with dark pasts and hardened by misfortune and horrid events, they could handle it and even draw pleasure from it. Alfred and Ivan were strong enough to take and give equally. Ivan's fingers wouldn't fall of or rot from the lack of blood, Alfred wouldn't suffocate from lack of air when the scarf was wrapped around his neck, neither of them would die so they could take out their aggressions and tension with each other without peril.

It was adorable when Alfred attempted to dominate the situation- sure, they could fight on par with one another, but when it came down to it, Ivan had always noticed that Alfred enjoys it more from below. Sometimes about the struggle, he assumed- who else could hold such a strong nation down? Holding him there by the throat while the body writhed- Alfred was delusional if he thought tonight would be any different.

A grunt escaped as pain filtered through his mouth, and he ignored the way his arms were going numb. What the fuck did he care if he couldn't use them? It's not like he needed them in order to get Alfred hot. Jerking back, he feels the droplet of blood trickling down his chin, licks it away and takes a moment to look his comrade over- eyes devouring the body, soaking it in.

Ivan didn't bother fighting his constraints, instead, he pressed his hips forward, rocking them slowly against Alfred's; frotting. Tilting his head, he licks at Al's neck, nibbling lightly, sucking a red mark. His. This is property of Ivan's. It always would be.

The dogs behind him snarled, and he didn't bother quieting them down. Instead, he just spoke against Alfred's skin. There was no such thing as pride when it came to Alfred. Only the need to touch and conquer.

"You should let me suck it."

Alfred let a quiet moan vibrate his throat as the Russian left a mark on it. Whenever they took this route he always went home bearing numerous hickies and bites. Ivan loved to mark him, to show the world that he belonged to him. Alfred found it arousing, the mix of possession and pain on his sensitive neck.

The shorted nation pulled back, licking away the blood that hadn't been smeared on his neck from Ivan's lips. "I should, but I'm not gonna." Alfred quipped, smirking against the Russian's mouth, eyes taunting him, wanting him to fight for it. Everything had to be won in their relationship, nothing was given freely. One had to battle for release or for anything they wanted from the other.

The grin against his lips was adorable, and while most people would not describe it in those terms, he definitely would. What was more endearing than a rowdy brat with a superiority complex? It was alright, Ivan would put him back down on the correct level. Using his shoulder, he abruptly pushed Alfred back, legs hooking around the man's ankles.

As he watched the boy fall backwards, he nodded to the canines behind him. One jumped right over the side, crawling into Alfred's space, jaws snapping. The other, however, bit right into Ivan's wrist, chewing at the skin. When it was slick enough with blood, he was able to get one wrist out- he didn't want to harm his scarf, of course. The step was quick, one which involved the sole of his boot resting firmly against Alfred's chest.

Looking down his nose at the boy, he wet his lips, affectionately running his eyes over the toned, and clothed, body.

"You are staying over, da? You better be gone when I wake up."

Alfred growled at the dog, baring his teeth and clamping his hand around its vicious jaws until it whimpered with pain. His head was a bit sore from where it had cracked against the floor, but it was nothing to him.

He looked up when the booted foot stepped onto his chest, eyes proudly defiant. Even flat on his back he wouldn't back down. It was one of the things Ivan admired about him, his everlasting will and determination. Long fingers curled around Ivan's leg and with a quick jerk, he rolled over, tripping the other over his body to knock him to the ground. In a flash he was up and sitting on his chest, pinning his half dead wrists above his head where he had the least amount of leverage. "Whoever said you were going to wake up?"

Pain shot through his limbs as he was suddenly reduced to a body on the floor, and he grit his teeth for just a moment to control himself. Wincing, he looks up at the proud nation and smiles, his appreciation for their circumstances growing. Only with America, it seemed, could he ever be himself and have that accepted. It made sense, though, because they'd been in love once, and when it turned ugly, so did he.

Ivan can barely remember that feeling, so he associates the burn in his loins with America and calls it good.

"Is this all, lyubovnik?" Whistling, a second animal- blood coating its mouth- is launched on Alfred's back, teeth sinking in to shoulder blade. All he needs is that single moment of weakness- the surprise from being bitten that loosens the grip- and he is rolling them over. The adjustment was quick, and the canine has hit the ground awkwardly, spinning and catching its feet. Snarling, it snaps at America's neck, only to sink into Ivan's forearm-

"Nyet, he's mine." Teeth are removed, and the animal backs up. Ivan is between Alfred's legs, one hand firmly gripping hair, holding the blond back.

"We're both alive because we needing something from each other. Tell me, when you are angry- where do you go? I knowing exactly why you are here the moment you knocking at my door." Jerking Alfred's head back, exposing his neck, he bites down on the soft flesh and grinds against his guest. Bruise forming, he licks up until he reaches jaw line.

Alfred let out a yelp, trying to shake off the dog only to have his breath knocked out of him as he hit the floor. He snarled at the dog, baring his teeth as it tried to attack him again.

He shivered when Ivan claimed him, something in his chest swelling as the mutt backed off. The blond gritted his teeth as his hair was gripped, fighting against the hold, scowling up at the Russian as he spoke.

"It's not my fault everyone else is too weak." Alfred spat, biting back a yelp as his head was jerked aside and shuddering deliciously. Another soft moan left his lips and he bucked up against Russia, letting his eyes fall shut for a moment, simply enjoying the pain that came with their foreplay.

When the bruise was dark enough- a deep purple- he let the skin fall from his teeth. Appreciating the way Alfred rubbed back, he unbuttoned the top of the boy's trousers, tugging at the hips.

Licking his lips, he confiscated the pistol, and points it to Alfred's arm. He will shoot. And then he will dig the barrel into it. He maneuvers the blond around, harshly smearing cheek against hardwood, but also tugging at the fabric until it was below Alfred's thighs, leaving his bits exposed.

It wasn't until now that he finally heard panting and glanced to the side. Both animals were watching, seemingly interested, and who was he to deny them anything? He nodded for one of the animals to come over. Obediently, it came to him and he gave a command in Russian. The dog rose to all fours and began lapping at Alfred's erection. Instructing the other dog over, he grabs Alfred by the thigh and pushes the leg up toward Al's chest. His ass now exposed and in the air, he motions for the second dog to come. With some assistance, the dog mounts the American.

"The interesting thing about the canine penis is that-" With some prodding, the dog forcefully slips his erection inside. "-Once engorged, it swells up, da? And can only be removed after deflation". The animal begins humping.

"This is Frederick." He motions to the dog who is now fucking Alfred. "And this is Vlad," he motions to the animal who is crawling up on Alfred, seeking the man's member again- it has a distinct flavor. The dog finds it and his tongue begins, frequently licking the thick cock, trying to get more of that saltiness.

Holding Alfred's legs in place, the gun now aimed at his chest, he looks the body over.

"Is no worry, they will taking good care of you."

Alfred let himself be flipped over, shivering at the breath of cold air over his bare ass. He frowned when he heard the Russian pause and speak in Russian. The blond opened his mouth to ask why he had stopped and quickly bit down on his tongue when he felt a tongue that was /definitely/ not Ivan's lapping at his member.

He made a noise of confusion when his legs were pushed up and his ass left high in the air. "What're you-?" Alfred gasped aloud when he felt furry paws around his waist and a muscular chest along his back. In a brief moment of panic, he pushed himself onto his forearms. "Wait a minute-ah!"

Alfred tensed as the dog forced himself in, throwing his head back at the pleasure. The dog's claws cut into his flat stomach a bit as he pulled him towards his hips, fucking him strongly. The American moaned, his head falling back onto his arms as his body slumped forward and rocked back against the strange new cock up his ass.

He barely heard the Russian, crying out as the other dog pushed its sleek head under his belly and began lapping at his erection. He clenched his blue eyes closed, unsure as to whether to buck back against the dog fucking his ass of rock down into the one that is tasting him like he's some kind of new kibble. The nation shook at the sensations, precum dipping out of his tip in a thick stream only to be licked away by the dog underneath him.

Ivan had to watch carefully, because these are not friendly animals. Once or twice, he had to scold Vlad for baring his teeth to Alfred's erection. When it realized that Ivan only wanted it to lick, it of course wanted to please its owner and did so, ears folding back in fear. Using his fingers, he motioned for the animal to follow with its tongue, and led it to Alfred's testicles. Its eyes scanned between the sack and the liquid forming at the head of the American's penis, and whenever it spotted some fluid, it would instantly lap it up.

Frederick's member had ballooned up inside of Alfred, and as it rocked, the animal realized it couldn't pull out. At this realization, it began to speed up, carelessly, thrusting shallowly. Ivan had to instruct it, too. Pressing his hand against the animal's hind side, he pushed it in until it was completely seated, and then let it pull out, repeating this a couple times until the instruction was understood. Panting, Frederick stuffed himself inside, far, and continued his thrusts that way- deep and fast.

Ivan finally shifted. Slipping in front of Alfred, he sat and spread his legs. Unsheathing his arousal, he scooted forward until Alfred was right above his cock. Gripping blonde strands, he guided the man down onto his erection, forcing it inside his mouth when Alfred gasped for air. Not patient, or considerate, he stuffs his friend's head down, stopping only when he felt resistance: a tight throat. Not bothering to wait, he proceeded to bob Alfred's head over his dick, hand firmly gripping hair- directing him.

Alfred bit down on his lip, feeling Ivan's fingers ghost over his member and down to his balls lightly, followed by an obedient and eager tongue. He moaned loudly, clenching his hands into fists when the dog behind him swelled, stretching him further. More cries left his mouth as the quick fucking and he spread his legs as Ivan guided this dog as well, making him take the blond deeper in a way that made his eyes roll back into his skull.

Blue orbs opened when the Russian seated himself in front of him and widened in appreciation when the other's large erection was unveiled. It was quickly stuffed into his mouth and he took a quick breath through his nose before it was unceremoniously shoved down his throat. He relaxed his muscles, taking him deeply on the next thrust and moaning around him.

Ivan's eyes closed, then, and he regulated his breathing as he forced himself into Alfred's throat- the muscles tightened around the head, massaging. When he held Alfred in place, nose bury in Ivan's pubic hair, he could feel the man milking him, and he waited until he could feel Alfred's throat constricting wildly before he let him go- it feels excellent as the body begins to suffocate. Repeating the process, his thighs tremble as he feels the panic set in- holds the position just a little longer- just until it's at its tightest, and allows Alfred to back up- gasping.

Glancing back to the dogs, he sees blood trickling down Alfred's hips and decides they should switch position. Roughly jerking Alfred's head back, he moves again, repositioning them all. Rolling Alfred over so that the man is on his back- the dog whines because he can't pull out during this. When the American is facing the ceiling, Frederick mounts him again, just as easily, and carries on. Sitting on Alfred's chest, he reaches a hand behind the man's head and pulls it forward, stuffing himself back inside that warm mouth.

Vlad is happy, because now he has full access to American's erection, and he even starts licking past the testicles where the dog is moving in and out of Alfred, both licking the anus and Fred's penis.

Ivan leans over Alfred, and begins thrusting into his comrade's mouth, fucking it.

Alfred saw spots dance in front his eyes each time Ivan held him down, his body aching for air. His throat flexed, trying to force oxygen into his body, and he almost gagged around the large cock in his mouth. He didn't notice the deep cuts on his hips from the dog's claws until Ivan flipped him over without preempt and one of his hips hit the couch leg. The blond hissed, the sound quickly turning into a cry of pleasure as the large dog shoved himself back into him.

His breath wheezed out of him as Ivan sat on his chest and he struggled to take another. Alfred parted his lips as his head was pulled forward, not fancying having his teeth banged about by the impatient Russian.

The American reached up, desperate to have something to hold onto, and gripped the other's thighs, the fabric under his fingers ripping from his grip. A deep moan surfaced between the facefucking as the dog licked all over him, dipping down to tongue his sensitive entrance as it was stretched and fucked soundly.

Ivan sometimes forgets that they hate each other. It happens mostly when Alfred has lips wrapped around his cock, but everything about their friendship is perfect, so it's almost shocking how they can't seem to get along. They're built around wanting to fuck the other one up.

Behind him, he hears a whimper- canine- and then a growl, followed by a longer, more intense growl. Frederick is spent, busting his seed inside Alfred. As the orgasm allowed room for the dog to pull out, he falls back and licks himself. Vlad, however, who was cleaning their pieces, moves around so he can lap at the hole better- now it has juices leaking out of it. Nuzzling his nose into the muscle, he dips his tongue in as much as he can, nuzzling and licking up fluids.

The animal barks quietly, and Ivan glances over his shoulder. Vlad waits patiently until he's given a nod and when Ivan gives him approval, he also climbs aboard. Prodding, he takes a couple tries before he gets himself in- larger genitalia than the last dog. As it begins rocking, the friction causes the member to inflate. The thrusting is easy, now, because of the sperm coating Alfred from the inside. As the fucking continues, this time with a stronger dog, the animal's length proceeds to grow in size- arousal building due to the scents released by Alfred's perspiration.

Alfred loved these times, when he and Ivan were simply doing what all animals were meant to do, fucking for fucking's sake. He didn't find it gross or perverse, sex was supposed to be pleasurable and they took their frustrations out on one another then comforted each other in the most primal and complex way.

The blond licked along the Russian's length as he bobbed his head, alternatively sucking and scraping his teeth along his member. He was anticipating the other's release, wanting to taste the results of his efforts.

"Ngh!" Alfred choked out a pleasured whimper around Ivan as the dog slipped out and he was licked clean. A deep moan vibrated his chest as the second, larger dog, mounts him and the American bucked back against him, spreading his legs eagerly.

The subtle feel of teeth along his erection made him sigh, eyes closed as his hips rocked. Alfred had always been excellent with his mouth, and Ivan had learned that he could force a lot in there before it became a problem. There were few people who could appreciate their relationship- muddled and undefined.

Pretty much straddling Al's head he pulled himself out, hand stroking the erection quickly. Shuddering, he released strings of white across Alfred's cheeks and nose. Panting, he looks down- almost affectionately- to the American's painted face and smiles. Swinging a leg back, he sits on his ass beside his friend and leans back on his palms. It was intriguing to watch.

Frederick moves around Ivan, sniffing at Alfred's face and starts licking the fluid there. Watching Vlad was the most astonishing thing. The canine's tongue wagged out, but the momentum and impact behind each thrust nearly pushed Alfred along the floor a little bit each time. Ivan notices the same issue with this animal and he grunts as he moves to the side. Placing a palm at the animal's rear, he pushes the beast in further. Almost as if the dog didn't know that could happen, it follows instructions- whining. Taking the opportunity, he slaps Alfred's ass hard- and the dog whimpers- pumping inside Al quickly. Ivan smiles and slaps the ass again- the dog whimpers and repeats the process.

This is when he realizes that Vlad likes when Alfred squeezes tighter- it makes the thing hump in a frenzy. Doing his guest a favor, he straddles Al's hips- reaching around and pressing his butt cheeks together. The extra tightness causes a reaction within the dog and Vanya can hardly believe the speed and strength behind the thrusts as the animal starts howling.

Alfred closed his eyes as Ivan pulled away, panting heavily as the come hit his face. His tongue flicked out, licking at the mess before the dog came over. He caught the last bit of Ivan's smile before he climbed off of him. Every time Ivan came on his face it made him feel like he had pleased him to the best of his abilities. His tongue and lips had earned him something that the Russian never did with anyone else and Alfred was happy with that.

He made a face when the smaller dog started licking his face, keeping his mouth and eyes shut as he bunched up his face. He heard Ivan shift beside him and the blond moaned as the dog slid in further, yelping when his ass was smacked. On the second smack, he knew he was going to have a nice bruise in the shape of the Russian's hand the next day. But it was all worth it as the dog humped him harder and faster. America pushed the dog licking his face away, his back bowing up with the force of the animal's thrusts. With a strangled cry, the nation tightened around the shaft buried deep inside him, shooting thick ropes of come out onto the Russian's stomach and jeans as he convulsed in his orgasm.

The white pearls lined his belly and groin. Of course- he didn't care in the slightest. He proceeded to stroke the boy until the last bits of white were squeezed out. Now that he was done with his mission, he found it would be vital to torture Alfred for as long as possible. Rising, he walked to his coat and pulled something out. While Alfred was still gasping, Ivan took the opportunity to tie the man's hands together.

Glancing down to the dog- which was still humping Alfred- he grabbed the man's hand and dragged him towards the fireplace. It was brick, and there was a metal rod built into it to hold to poker. There, he tied the rope to it. While he had pulled Al, though, the canine had to come with, because its penis was still bloated. One thing Ivan should have mentioned was that a dog can be stuck inside someone for up to an hour or so.

Leaving him there, Ivan shifted to sit down in a comfortable chair- watching. Alfred was such a mess- jizz everywhere, panting, red in the face. Now, Al should be sensitive as hell- and there was still a horny canine going at it.

Ivan thought he might wait until Alfred begged him for help.

Alfred shuddered under Ivan's hand as he was stroked, panting as he fell into a blissfully pleasured state. He didn't fight when his hands were tied together, the action exciting him further. The dog still pounding into him only heightened his post-orgasmic high and he squeaked a bit as he was dragged across the smooth floor, the feeling of the dog following after him strange.

The American glanced up as he was tied to the metal rod, lips falling open as he tried to catch his breath. Though it was rather hard, literally, with the Rott Weiler still trying to fuck him into the fireplace. He closed his eyes, tilting his head back as his sensitive ass was humped continuously. How damn long was this dog going to last?

Reaching, he pulled out his phone and browsed the internet, not bothering to pay attention to the dog and man in the corner. He checked local news and read global coverage, and when he was done, he closed the browser. Blinking, he saw the camera application and glanced up. Clicking it, he lifted the cell and took a photo. Noticing that he can also record, he started filming.

"Alfred, comrade, what are you believe Arthur would thinking of this?"

Alfred opened his eyes at Ivan's voice, half dazed from the dog still stuck up his ass. "W-what?" His blue eyes snapped open wide, his mouth falling open. "Ivan, you asshole! You know better than that!"

He growled at the Russian, planning on snapping his wrist and the phone when the damned animal got off of him. They had never recorded any of their exploits, preferring to keep their strange relationship between themselves. Having Arthur see him like this, tied up with one of Ivan's Rott Weilers knotted inside him, was not an ideal thought.

"Is really good picture, da? Is covered in semen, legs spread for animal." Then, he looks the man's face over, and smiles. "And you are looking like enjoying. Do you wanting to sending Arthur message? You should say hello."

Laughing, he feels himself waking up again and sighs. Tormenting Alfred always made him this way. That's why he usually throws the fool out after- but his dog is tied there. Wetting his lips, he wonders what Alfred would feel like, now that he's full of fluids- stretched.

"I am not supposing you are having somewhere to be, da?"

Alfred scowled again, glaring at the phone. "Maybe I want to go home and relax and play some games where I can shoot Russians."

The American let his head fall back against the fireplace, a slightly frustrated sigh escaping his lips. He looked at the other from the corner of his eye, wondering why he was teasing him like that. He didn't usually bring in blackmail when they were together. "What do you have in mind?"

Chuckling, the corner of his eyes crinkled and he set the phone down. It was always fun being with Alfred, especially because there was so much history, and so much to fight over. There was almost affection in his smile at that point, but he didn't mind. They'd never be in love again, and whatever they share now was only a small glimpse in time.

"Nyet, comrade, you can shooting Russians here, da? Is no needing to leave." Whistling, the dog is almost instantly able to back out- fear causes a physiological response in things sometimes. Generally, it has the ability to make someone lose an erection. Laughing, then, he wonders if Alfred will realize he let it drag on for fun.

"I am tell you, you are staying night, da? Is not up for discussing."

Alfred rolled his eyes, resting his head against the fireplace, it was getting difficult to hold his head up like that and he didn't fancy getting a kink in his neck for the Russian. He bit his lip to keep in a low moan as the dog quickly backpedaled, leaving him with a sudden cold feeling.

"You're rather bossy for a big lamb." He teased, looking up at Ivan. The big man always did remind him of a lamb with the way he was always bundled up in his fluffy coat with his white hair and pale skin. It wasn't often that he called him that, and certainly not at meetings. Though the looks on the others' face would probably be worth it. It was most likely better that they keep their pet names to their private interactions, though.

"Lamb?" If he was a more personable person, he might have bleated, but alas, his image is important. As he looked Alfred over, scenes flashed behind his eyes- knives, bleeding, begging. Unhealthy desires were building the longer Alfred decided to be childishly inclined. There was always a base need to have the smaller man on his knees, subjugated.

"You mean... How do you say- wolf in sheep clothings, da?" That seemed to fit him better, right? Unless somehow Alfred was suffering from some sort of mental disorder.

"You are bossy for a man who is tying to my fireplace, mm?"

"Nope, lamb." He said firmly, smirking at the big Russian. Alfred let his legs slip down to the smooth floor, aches already building up. "You act all innocent and hide away in this big empty place far away from anyone else, a lamb will do that too, if it's lost its mother. It'll run off to some place where it feels safe or that it knows."

Explaining this to the other was hard when he himself was still half-hard. "Erm, another thing. Your appearance. While most people see lambs as white fluffy things that look like cotton candy or a cloud, not many people actually know that their coats are covered in oil and often get filthy. But that's only because people don't think to get near them, if they did they wouldn't see them as the fluffy whatevers they had thought. And lambs can be vicious if they're alone and trying to protect themselves. Ever get bitten by one? Hurts like a bitch."

"The lamb has flat teeth, is like pinch." His tone is mocking, and he licks his own teeth, feeling over them. If Ivan were to bite, it would definitely break skin. A lamb can bruise, but it's not likely to cause bleeding.

"Are you telling me that I am lost my mother, da?" Thinking about it, he adjusts his pants, tidying himself in them. Buttoning them as he stands, he walks over, crouching beside Alfred. Brushing strands out of the boys face, he sighs.

"Nyet, Alfred. I am lost you. You are being hero, da? We could having the world, you know. In our hands. But you needing to be good guy, and is leave me lonely. Is really your fault, da?" Fingers smooth over the man's lips and then his palm covers it entirely. Leaning, he kisses the back of his hand and leans back with a large smile in place.

"I am going to hurt you, da? I would enjoying if you would cry."

Alfred looked up at the tall man, feeling an ache in his chest like he used to when they were in love. He kissed the palm of Ivan's hand as he kissed the back, knowing they could never go back to the way they were. Ivan wanted the entire world to be his, someone had to counterbalance that, to keep him and other nations with the same ideals in check, otherwise the world wouldn't survive. He knew, full and well, that they could take over the world and have it dancing about in the palms of their hands while they lounged on expensive fur-lined thrones in a matter of years, months even, but even though the idea sent pleasurable shivers down his spine, Alfred knew he couldn't go through with it, not at the expense of innocent people.

He would cry, not because of the other, but for the Russian. For all of the things he had missed growing up in a half barren land always shrouded in winter and misery, for the friends he lost and never had because he as too frightening, and for their lost love that they could never reclaim.

If Ivan could, his heart might be aching, too. It continually fell out after Alfred left- no longer having a use- and he just keeps it locked away somewhere, safe. He can live without it; he's not a human, after all. And they don't get to have happy endings. He is reminded of the saying 'die a hero, or live long enough to see yourself become the bad guy'.

Aware that they can't die this way, he knows better, knows that he can do terrible things and Alfred will heal. Shifting, he grabs a pillow from the couch- he can't take those fucking eyes looking at him anymore. One hand grips Alfred's hair, the other stuffs the cushion over the man's face.

Alfred closed his eyes as his face was covered with the pillow, knowing his eyes haunted the Russian. They always had, even when they had been together.

He took shallow breaths, finding it difficult with the force Ivan was pressing down with and the high thread count of the case, which didn't allow much air through. Alfred hoped Texas wouldn't get broken as his head started to ache minutely. He didn't struggle, simply leaned his bare legs against Ivan's body gently as his senses started to shut down.

This isn't how it should be. Alfred isn't even struggling. His brows knit in confusion, and then anger, and then he just didn't know what to do. If Alfred isn't fighting back, then what- How was he going to feel better? Now, it feels like he's beating a dead horse, and that was a lonely feeling, too.

The touch of knees against him made him a little sad. It was easier to be upset, easier to want to cause pain, but all he can think now is how Alfred is taking pity on him. Letting the hair go, it's only a matter of minutes before Alfred has pants on and Ivan is untying him. When the ropes release, he just lets the man fall. This was the worst visit so far.

Displeased, he gives the body a nudge with the front of his shoe and with his voice under control, says:

"Get out."

Alfred instinctively took a deep breath when the pillow was pulled from his face and he blinked away the black spots that were dancing across his vision. He looked up at Ivan in confusion, his pale brows furrowing together above worried eyes. What had he done wrong that the Russian didn't want him there anymore?

"Ivan?" He asked tentatively, rubbing his wrists as he sat up uncertainly.

That stupid voice, from that pathetic person, asking him idiotic questions. They knew better than to do this. Ivan needed to get away as soon as he could. When there was no longer mirth at hurting Alfred, there was no reason to keep him around. They'd already had their fun. He was naive to think he could possibly keep Alfred until morning; they were never around each other this long for a reason.

He doesn't know how to act, so he pretends that he's speaking to Arthur. It's easy to be distant, to ignore that he wants to ruin everything and everyone- to ignore that he knows that will never make him feel better, it will only make everyone else feel worse. Ivan likes to think he's under control. But it seems- never around America.

"Is past your bed time. Little boys should be running home now." With that, he clicks his tongue and both his animals are walking down the hall and disappearing into Ivan's bedroom. Turning, he heads that way, too.

"Spokoynoy nochi, America."

Alfred felt a tinge of anger at the other's words, but it was quickly extinguished by the sudden overwhelming sadness he felt at being dismissed to emotionlessly. Normally after their escapades, Ivan would press him against the wall and give him another hickey or a hard bite on his neck or shoulder.

He had never been shown out in such a way. Such a curt way.

The American stood slowly, still absently rubbing at his sore wrists as he watched the Russian's back. He drew up his courage, threw away his pride, embraced his old love of Ivan, and opened his mouth. "For whatever I did...I'm sorry...Vanya." He said quietly, speaking to Ivan's back as he spoke in the same voice he used to speak in whenever he was around the other when they had been in love. The voice he knew Ivan loved even now, a soft, emotional tone that said more than his words did.

Ivan hadn't been waiting, he just continued down the hall. Wherever his heart was, he could feel it hurting. Generally, he was able to keep Alfred far enough away from him that this didn't happen- but those fucking eyes. Those eyes and that stupid, willful boy, together they just-

Words. He feels like his chest is being compressed. His eyes sting momentarily, and he hasn't felt this in such a long time, that he almost doesn't realize this is how crying begins. At the door to his room, a hand on the wall, he stops. Ivan will not be defeated by this. Then lastly, /Vanya/ spills off those lips and he feels like he's dying. Suddenly, he feels nothing, and looks down the hall- defeated.

"You're a bastard." His words tremble. "You mean nothing to me." If he was a weaker man, he might have told the man he loved him, that he was sorry, that he'll be good okay? Just come back. As a strong man, however, he does none of those things.

"I never loved you." With the last word, he's entering the room.

Alfred stared at the door, the fire warming one side of his body even though he felt like ice throughout. Slowly, he nodded, a tiny smile on lips that were pressed thin. "Right." He said in a soft whisper.

The boy gathered up his things, not bothering to clean himself up. He didn't care right now, not when it felt like his whole body was underwater and he couldn't breathe, couldn't see any light or make out which way was up. As quietly as he had gathered up his things, he left through the front door into the blizzard that always seemed to surround Ivan's house. A single little glistening spot marked his passing on the hardwood floor as he shut the door softly behind him and headed back to town.

It's not even a day later when Ivan is sitting at his desk and he receives a phone call. Picking it up, there is an irate voice on the other end yelling even before he can verbalize that he has answered. Ivan listens, recognizing that apparently Alfred it acting strangely. Some part of him wants to laugh about the fact that Alfred of course has gone to Arthur. It's only after he tells Arthur to deal with it himself that Arthur says Alfred has stopped answering his phone.

Alfred is at home, not answering calls, acting strangely. Ivan brings a hand to his mouth, breathes normally, and then sighs. He's told that if he doesn't fix it whatever he did, that Arthur is going to-

The phone is hung up before he can hear the threat, and less than a day passes by before he is rudely stepping into Alfred's house (read: broken into). Removing his jacket, he hangs it up on the post beside the door; black jeans and a matching long sleeve v-neck. Brushing his hair once with his fingers, he finds himself walking the familiar path back into the house, stopping at an even more familiar bedroom.

He knocks.

Alfred had not contacted Arthur since he started bombarding him with calls around the time he was supposed to be back from Ivan's. He made it a habit to call the Brit when he was done with his formal relations with the Russian so he would stop worrying. Of course when Alfred was not prudent he blew up his phone with calls and texts.

The nation had cut his phone off rather than hear the constant ringtone blaring in his ear. Only in the past five minutes had he cut it back on, but Arthur had not called him yet. He probably wouldn't even answer if he did. The blond had curled up on his bed, food forgone for watching reruns of How It's Made in the dark, grand room and wishing his brother was there to feed him ice cream.

After sulking in the dark for nearly two days, Alfred jumped when he heard a knocking on his door. "Go away, Arthur..." He muttered, voice muffled as he drew the thick bedspread over his head to block out the sound. He just wanted to be left alone with his thoughts and a tub of Oreo ice cream.

Ivan waited patiently, which was surprising. Pieces of him wanted to get the fuck out and ignore Arthur, but the majority was interested in seeing just how much Alfred was suffering. There were a bunch of reasons. Why was Alfred suffering? Was it the words that hurt him? Why did he care? Alfred should have known better than to be sweet with him; Ivan can't take it.

At the reply, he rose an eyebrow, sighing. There was a chance that even if Alfred knew it wasn't Arthur, that he still wouldn't open the door. It wouldn't matter- his has boots on, it would be easy to break down. He'll go ahead and give Alfred the chance to let him in.

Leaning his forehead against the door, he tries to find a good reason to go. A lot of them arise, but none of them are enough to make his feet turn. Besides, Alfred assumes it's England, because England is probably the only one with a key: if Russia was inside, it would be obvious how.

"Do not being a child, Alfred. Open the door."

Alfred tensed up at the Russian's voice, his hand clenching into his blanket. Why was Ivan here? Did Arthur call him? What did he care, he had never loved him so why was he here?

The American went over his options. If he ignored the other he wouldn't have a bedroom door anymore, and he kinda liked his door. But if he got up and let him in, what would happen?

The blond chewed on his lip for a moment before throwing the covers aside and getting up. He rubbed at his eyes, hoping to make them look better before he answered the door. The door was opened with a bright smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Hey Ivan! Whatcha doin' here so late? Shouldn't you be doing, like, national stuff over at your place?" Please go away, it hurts to see you.

When Alfred opened the door, Ivan leaned against it with his shoulder. Crossing both arms, his head taps against the bed frame and he wets his lips as he looks the boy over. He was crying like a little baby earlier, wasn't he. There is no question in the thought. If Ivan was a weaker man, or if his heart weren't somewhere else, he probably would have cried, too.

Carefully, he reaches a hand out- clothed in a black glove. It smoothes across the man's cheek, thumb stroking over the bone there. Alfred is pretending, and that's obnoxious. With ease, he removes Texas, folds them, and hands them off one of his belt loops. With the same hand, he catches Alfred by the back of the neck and pulls him closer. It's been over fifty years since he's tried to seduce this man- he wonders if he still has it in him.

"Stop." His tone is level. This is all Alfred's fault, because he brought the stupid sheep comment up.

Pushing off the door, he brings a second gloved hand to Alfred's eyes, resting it over them. From here, he could only see the smile.

"Now I can almost believing this lie you are showing me."

Alfred let the other pull his precious Texas from his nose, blinking up at the Russian before he covered his eyes. He knew he was lying, he always had. It was easy for him, even if he was acting like his usual, bubbly self.

The American stood for a moment before cupping a hand over Ivan's wrist, holding it gently. His smile fell into a more thoughtful frown as he contemplated the other. "Why are you here, Ivan?" Why are you torturing me like this?

He sighed softly, wondering if his chest would stop hurting anytime soon. It hurt even more when the Russian was around.

Ivan knew what Alfred needed. Of course he did. They knew each other well enough to be comforting. It's just been a while since Ivan has been the one who Alfred needed. Taking in a slow breath, not even minding the hands touching him, he shifts and leans in. As long as his American friend doesn't look, it should be okay. The kiss is soft, because Alfred needs Vanya for a little bit. Ivan can be held at bay for now.

"For you, mm?" Due to their proximity, when he speaks, his lips move against Alfred's. He can't force sweetness into his voice, because that would be too much; overwhelming. Guiding one of Alfred's hands up to cold lips, he presses a kiss there instead. Inviting himself in, he steps far enough that he can close the door. It's dark- Alfred was being pathetic.

The room is barely lit, he can only just make the other man out as his eyes adjust. Leaning back against the wood, he pulls Alfred to his chest. Finally letting him see again, the hand strokes through hair.

"Sometimes, is only me who can helping, da?"

Alfred started when he felt the other's cold lips on his and he shivered as his lips moved against his as he spoke. He hadn't kissed Ivan in years, not like that, and it woke up memories he had buried for the sake of moving on.

"Me?" He asked softly, hand tingling from the gentle kiss on his skin. It was hard to believe that the Russian would come after him so soon after what he said, but then again he never could stand to see the American sad, in pain, yes, but not sad. How It's Made filled the dark room as he leaned against Ivan's broad chest, feeling the familiar hard muscles beneath his thick coat. Blue eyes opened again as he looked up at the other, tilting his head into the gentle hand. "Sometimes..."

There's a soft glint, and he knows it's Alfred's eyes. Ivan doesn't want to see them at all. He wants them to close or look somewhere else- he can feel them burning holes into his flesh. Wetting his lips, he drops his gaze to meet them. The flame in his chest is painful, but there's no way to avoid it now.

Yes there is.

Leaning in, hand tightening its grip in Alfred's hair, he guides the boy's chin up and presses their mouths together. He feels a little better. His second hand slips around Alfred's waist, holds him firmly. This is wrong. Kissing Alfred like one might kiss a lover is too much. His movements are slow, and he's taking his time- easing the mouth open, tasting subtle sweetness. Feeling much better. In his mind, he is claiming this body; mine. This is mine. All of this belongs to me.

Alfred watched at Ivan's face, covered in shadows, tilted down towards his. He met the amethyst eyes with his own sad blue ones, wishing to just make all the pain go away, all the pain that they both shared.

When Ivan tightened his hand around his hair, his lips parted in surprise and he didn't fight when the other tilted his chin up to meet the Russian's mouth. This was what he wanted, to be pressed against Ivan in the sanctuary of his room, away from all the prying eyes of the other nations. He wanted to be able to feel Ivan as he had when they were in love, to hold him when they were both sad and feel cheered up by his presence alone. He offered his being to Ivan, letting him control the kiss as it stayed soft and sensual and he shivered slightly as his mouth was tempted open. Ivan could have everything that he was, it felt too right to fight against.

Ivan and Alfred were perfect together- until their nations got in the way. When none of that was involved, they were great. Hiding in Alfred's room, huddled closely together at the door; this is the happiest Ivan has found himself since the First World War Everything started downhill from there, and kept going, and now Alfred's tongue was slicking against his own and none of that even mattered in the slightest.

Alfred could always get Ivan hot, whether or not it be angry or otherwise. Something about the idiot made his skin heat, and he felt smothered here like this. It was perfect. Easing fabric aside, his fingers brushed waist and felt along the smooth skin, relishing. The hand in Alfred's hair moved from a grip, to a pull. The fingers loosened, and instead played with golden strands at the nape, just above the shirt collar.

Humming his enjoyment, Ivan found himself slowly turning them. Once Alfred was the one against the door, he shifted them entirely and lifted Alfred from the floor- guiding the legs around his waist as their lips broke contact.

"Ya tebya lyublyu, lubovnik." Then he says it again, quieter and into Alfred's mouth. "I am always loving you." But nothing will change.

Alfred felt perfectly content, surrounded by the dark here in the private oasis of his room where not even Tony would bother to go when he knew he was not wanted. He tangled slim fingers in Ivan's pale hair, shining softly in the dim light from the TV screen. He couldn't help but melt against his body was he was kissed, the Russian's lips had a way of making him melt even with their cold temperature.

He shivered when his shirt was pulled apart and felt cool hands on his waist. The American slid his down to Ivan's shoulders, gripping them as if they were his anchors, keeping him from floating away in the dark room.

He turned with Ivan, always knowing he would be the one to be submissive. He spent so much time as the one in charge, barking orders one after another and filling out forms and paperwork, it felt wonderful to have someone else take the reins in something this sentimental. Alfred curled his long legs around Ivan's waist, taking a breath when they broke apart.

The soft words made his heart break and he felt a burning in his chest as he hid his glistening eyes in Ivan's shoulder. It was impossible to say that he had stopped loving Ivan, but that wouldn't change a thing. It wouldn't make the world a better place and it wouldn't stop him from wishing he didn't have a heart to break in the first place. "I love you, lamb..."

After his words, Alfred slowly seemed to close in on him. The contact turned into a large Embrace, and he just held the boy that way for the moment, stroking his back and neck and hair. It seemed that after all these years, Ivan still had to nurse some old wounds back to health, lest they fester.

Glancing over his shoulder, he noted the environment; not much had changed. Eyes scanning, he noticed the bed with the plush comforter and hm, maybe he should put them there. Shifting, arms solid as he pulls away from the door, he takes some testing steps (sometimes Alfred has a messy room, you know) and then is striding towards the bed easily.

Turning, he sits on the mattress and finds it easier to get comfortable this way. Alfred is being sweet, so he coaxes the boy out of his neck with a couple kisses on the jaw and cheek bones.

"Babe, why are you hide from me? I am right here, da?"

Alfred clung to the big Russian as he was carried to his bed, inhaling the deep scent that came from his scarf. Behind the Russian's back, he played with the edge of it, twisting it around his fingers and running his fingertips over the surface. It felt nice to have the other touching him again, comforting him like he used to.

He hitched his legs up as the other sat down, straddling Ivan's lap basically. The light kisses made him feel a bit better and he pulled away from the safety of the other's shoulder, looking up at him and watching the changing light from the TV dance across his cheeks.

It made his chest constrict to hear him call him such a sweet pet name and he bit his lip gently. "I didn't want to let you see me being so pathetic..."

Easily, his smile widens and he is moving hair gently aside, out of Alfred's eyes. Thinking about it, he pulls Texas from his pant loop and leans to set it on the nightstand. When he returns, his hands roam up Alfred's sides and he presses his nose to the man's chest and inhales deeply.

"Who else would you letting see such thing? Nyet, comrade, is only me. Is no worry, I will not telling." Kissing the fabric, he sighs softly and drags the fabric at Alfred's torso up as his hands progress to shoulder blade.

The longer this went on, the more natural it felt to do. It seemed Alfred truly was the only person he could love and not be crazy with at the same time- when he could actually love the boy. Too bad their global goals were so different.

Glancing up, he sees the deep blue and his body aches. There's a wince, and suddenly he's full with longing.

"Do not staring, da?"

Alfred dropped his eyes obediently, not wanting to do anything to make the other leave. He needed him too much right now. He looped his arms around Ivan's neck tenderly, playing with the silvery hair as he shivered slightly in the cool air, suddenly feeling too hot.

He can't see around him, his vision too terrible for him to see much more than anything in his immediate vicinity. And that suited him just fine. He didn't need to see the old grandfather clock that ticked in the corner, or the blinking TV screen. The oak dresser and painting above the bed went unnoticed in favor of the spectacular man in front of him.

"I don't think I could even let someone else see me like this." Alfred admitted softly, glancing up at Ivan for a moment before looking down at the trailing end of the scarf he always wore.

The American leaned forward, gently kissing Ivan's cheek before retreating shyly. "Only you."

Ivan has fabric between his teeth, tugging at it when Alfred begins talking. The boy is sweet, and he doesn't mind that he's being a little more sentimental than normal. Rather, he finds that it's easy to appreciate it more, knowing that tomorrow Alfred will be fine and this whole thing will be pointedly forgotten.

Lips press to cheek and Ivan's hand catches Alfred's nape halting him from moving away. Instead, he releases the shirt and catches Alfred's mouth instead. The man's lips are already somewhat moist from before, and now they're warm and pliable as he kisses them. He knows that he might be a little overwhelming, but he really can't hold himself back when they're in such a close proximity, acting like the lovers they'd been a long time ago.

Ivan was and had always been weak to Alfred's needs. He knows what Alfred wants; plans to give it to him. He is nodding slightly, because 'only you' is exactly how he feels, too.

Alfred sighed into the man's lips, a feeling of contentment that he knew would dissipate tomorrow morning when Ivan was gone and he was left on his own again. He didn't like being alone, it scared him thinking that no one was with him. Something could happen and there would be no one there to deal with it with him, not that he actually needed help, he just like having someone in proximity to him, someone sturdy to lean on when things got rough. During the Great Depression and the Cold War, he felt more alone than he ever had, like he was standing in the middle of the ocean and there was nothing until the sky met the horizon in the distances all around him.

The American held Ivan needily, wanting to feel like someone was there for him, to stand by him when he needed him and support him when he was standing tall. He had missed this, this feeling of closeness with another of their kind, and his kiss reflected that. It was tender and needy and delicate and desperate, all the things he felt coiled up in his chest at the moment.

There's no way Ivan can comprehend the complexity of Alfred's current struggle, but what he does know is that there is a sudden change in behavior. Alfred is pushing against him somewhat, being perhaps forceful, but mostly just hectic. There's an erratic sense of desire involved in the American's movements, so all he can do is wait and see where it leads.

Bodies press more tightly together, and he realizes what this is; Alfred wants more than he has, and he wants everything right now. With a hand on the back of his friend's head and one at his hip, he rolls over so that Alfred's back is against the blankets. Above the man now, he slips his hands beneath shirt fabric and his teeth gently tug at lower lip.

Alfred may have eeped when he was rolled over, not that he would ever admit to it. He looked up at Ivan when he landed, his legs falling from around his waist to prop themselves on the bed.

He opened his mouth at the tug, inviting his friend in to play with his tongue and ease some of the desperate feeling coiling in his gut. The American was glad that Ivan could understand him so well, to be able to tell what he needed from touch and his body language.

Smiling somewhat as Alfred's mouth opens, he slides one hand down along the man's sides. It trails over ribs, hips, and buttocks, then up over thigh, lifting it upward and hooking knee. It's comfortable, feeling him this way. It's familiar and soft and warm and it makes life much easier to tolerate when his only connection to the world is literally beneath his fingertips.

It's not long before he's sucking on tongue and slicking theirs together. Just recognizing the sensation, realizing his body remembered all this- left Ivan hot and more importantly: bothered. It's interesting how simple it is to fall back into regular patterns, even with how much time has passed.

Pulling back so he can steady his breathing, his forehead is rested against Alfred's. His eyes are half lidded, and he can see light reflecting off of the other man's wet lips.

"I will having to remind you what a man feels like, da?"

The large hand trailing along his body had Alfred shuddering under its touch in a matter of seconds. He let his hands drift over the hard chest in front of him, feeling the planes of his muscles contract under his fingertips.

Alfred remembered this well, having Ivan pressed against him, gently rocking their bodies together to awaken their desires then gently touching him to excite him more. He fell back into the comfortable sensation easily, smiling softly up at Ivan as he pulled away.

Unable to help himself, the blond giggled a bit at the other's question before pulling him down for another kiss. When he was done stealing the other's breath he pulled back a little and whispered against his slick lips. "I've been waiting for that for a while."

In recent years, whenever Alfred becomes frustrated and needs to release some stress, he'll come to Ivan to settle it. Most of the time, Alfred would struggle to take the authority position, but back then- America had been something precious to him and he was always cared for; daily.

It's almost as though they get to rewind, and that was beautiful. It was easy to lust after something he couldn't have, and well- this time, he could.

Ivan was caught up in the momentary sensation as their mouths were connected, and while normally he might be ashamed by this; he was absolutely seduced. Alfred leans back, and Ivan is left instinctively trying to catch the lips as the recede- leaning into the kiss more than he thought. He can feel the heat starting in his cheeks and Alfred speaks and he moans softly in reply; of course Alfred was waiting.

Hips shifting, he rocks suggestively against the man below him and his eyes close fully, merely appreciating the friction. The bed makes a creaking sound when he does it the next time, and his head drops to Alfred's shoulder- breathing heavier already.

Alfred pressed his head back into the pillow, taking delight in the moan that slipped through Ivan's lips before he rocked their hips together. The pleasurable friction nearly erased the sound from before, of Ivan moaning as he had back then, when everything was nearly perfect, and Alfred struggled to grasp it more firmly.

He was immersed in sensations he only remembered from dreams and suppressed memories, memories where he had been loved and treasured each day, never looked down upon or scolded meaningfully. Ivan had treated him as an equal because that's what they were. In the bedroom and in the world, they were equals and no one else, not even Yao could match them.

Ivan had gotten used to restraining himself with partners, even when he was roughing Alfred up, he was holding on to a lot of things. Now, with his face pressed into a warm neck, he's trailing his tongue up the side of it to jaw line where he sucks at the hollow crook there. The different sensitive locations are forgotten until his mouth is upon them.

Releasing the knee, he smoothes his hand over hip and then slips it between them. Fingers deftly slip beneath fabric as he stills his hips, settling on something warm and firm. Kneading his palm against it, he grips softly and chuckles softly with his nose to throat.

How did they do without this?

Alfred nearly melted into a puddle as Ivan inexorably found every one of the sensitive spots on his neck that made him turn into incoherent mush. He moaned out the Russian's name, bucking up into his hips.

With a startled gasp, which quickly morphed into a pleasured moan, Alfred saw that Ivan still remembered where his most sensitive spot was, eh eh. He wanted to rock into that firm grip, but the other's free hand prevented him from gaining more delicious friction and he felt a whine build up in his throat as he was kneaded. Oh how in the hell had he thought that their violent fuck sessions had been better than this? Ivan knew every inch of his body and exactly how to make his brain not work at all.

His tone is light-hearted as he chuckles.

"You keep calling me." Listening to the sounds, he removes his hand long enough to ease Alfred's trousers down past his hips. Pushing shirt fabric up, his lips press to chest and then nipple. Rising onto his knees to give space between them, he is able to pull Alfred's member out and then stroking it as he re-introduced himself to the body.

Trying to pay more attention specifically to what his hand is doing, attempting to be more methodic about it. His fingers wrap tightly, and his thumb brushes the head as he pumps his fist over it. From what he can recall, Alfred remembers that when he twists his wrist just like-so-  
"Maybe I will calling you back?"

Alfred bit his lip roughly, trying to keep his noises to himself so he can hear Ivan speak. It's difficult with his nipple and chest being teased and especially hard when Ivan pulls him out and starts stroking him.

The feeling of that large hand on his member was heaven and Alfred's eyes rolled back in his head as he moaned. How on earth did he make such a simple touch so damn pleasurable?

"Ivan!" The cry flew from his lips as he bucked up into his hand, feeling like he'd gotten shocked, but much better. How did he remember such a little thing after so long apart? He'd never done it when the American had gone over to his house to relieve stress.

The loud gasp and his name made his own erection twitch, but he paid it as little mind as possible. The point was to focus on Alfred, touch him as much as possible because it will be years and years before it's likely this chance will come again. What a pity.

Alfred jerked harshly, and Ivan just continued down, tongue leaving a cool and wet trail of saliva behind. At the navel, he kisses and sucks gently at the belly. One thing Ivan always appreciated was that Alfred had a little meat on him; it was absolutely sexy, and it always somehow managed to excite him a little more when he saw it. Alfred is by no means fat, but the slight excess was definitely appealing so the Russian.

At the hipbone, he kisses along the skin as one hand brushes over nipple still at chest. Near the end of the bed already, he drags Alfred just close enough that he can crouch between the legs and pull them the rest of the way off as he kisses inner thigh.

"Do you wanting to watch, da?"

Alfred shivered at the other's touch, biting his bottom lip as the Russian sucked on his stomach. He'd never really understood Ivan's obsession with his stomach, but it felt too good to make him stop.

He arched his back playfully as the Russian slid down, his pale hair almost sinking out of sight before he was dragged down to the edge of the bed with a yelp. Sitting up, he was greeted with the wonderful image of Ivan sitting between his spread legs, kissing at his thigh like he would kiss a lover.

With a nod, he encouraged Ivan to continue, eager to return the favor.

The nod was really all he needed. It was rare that Ivan offered, with good reason, and even less often that Alfred could even watch. His American friend sometimes had a hard time focusing, and would generally end up with his eyes closed anyway.

Head turning to the other side, he holds the erection in place with one hand as his tongue continues in a single long lick from base to tip. There are a couple more of these- for show- before he presses the muscle softly against slit. The fingers now wrap around the bottom of the shaft, and they stroke firmly as he begins by taking just the head into his mouth and sucking.

As he begins to feel the familiar tremble of thighs beside his shoulder, he bobs his head slowly, taking a little more in until he reaches his hand.

That wonderful mouth on his member was pure heaven. Alfred instantly carded his long fingers into Ivan's hair, gently caressing the soft strands as pleasure spiked through his body. His tense legs quivered in delight as his friend, his love, paid special attention to his slit, the fingers making his eyes flutter, the mouth sucking his head forcing a thick moan from his throat.

He called out Ivan's name softly, reverently, like a prayer, as he slowly took his length into his mouth, concentrating hard to keep from bucking up into his throat and choking him. It wouldn't kill him or anything, but it would be extremely uncomfortable and probably hurt a little and he didn't want anything to ruin this fragile moment.

Fingers in his hair felt pleasant, and especially so once that voice started pouring out sweet things. He'd almost forgotten how beautiful his own name could sound, coming off those lips. It was even more impressive that Alfred wasn't trying to force his way in his mouth a bit more- Ivan had grown accustomed to that.

His hand flattened against pelvis, and he continued rocking the length further in. Once it reached the back, he swallowed, milking the member for fluids. With his nose pressed to pubic hair, he can feel wetness in his own drawers. Testing a hand down, there's sticky residue leaking through the fabric at the front of his pants- God, when was the last time he'd been this turned on? It almost felt like the first time; they'd been naive then, and just simple fondling had forced release out of him; even now his knees felt weak.

Alfred whimpered as he was taken into the bigger nation's throat, struggling to keep his eyes open. He wanted to remember this night for a long time, it would probably be the last time someone treated him with this kind of delicacy for years.

Ivan usually let him thrust into his mouth until he was finished, occasionally holding him back to catch his breath or play with him. That had been the way since they had separated and now Alfred couldn't think of how he'd endured those emotionless meetings.

There are some pretty amazing noises coming out of Alfred's throat, and Ivan finds them hard to resist. Once he knows that what he's doing is good, he tries to do it again, and when he finds himself so eager that he's nearly choking himself, he realizes that he's just too far along right now. Pulling back abruptly, he tries to catch his breath. He can see the thin string of pre-come that connects his lips to Alfred's erection and- God, he just wants everything right now, all the time, always.

He knows he's not in control right now, that he can barely contain himself. This is abnormal; but he used to only let Alfred see this side of him, there's no surprise that it came out. His pupils are dilated, they're darker- saturated with his need. He's shivering and he knows it, but the throb and the desire flooding through him is difficult to manage. Ivan suddenly remembers where he got the urge to dominate Alfred from; don't leave. Stay here. I'll take care of you.

His voice shakes when he speaks, and he knows that he's giving his need away as he looks up to the love of his life.

"Lubovnik, I-" Glancing down, he can visually see the amount of fluid increasing through his pants. He would have liked to get Alfred off once or twice, but he can't- "Please, I need you."

The fact that Ivan nearly choked himself trying to deepthroat Alfred again told him that the larger man was losing his firm grasp on his control. It was just another reminder of their lost glory days.

Alfred's breath caught as Ivan pulled back and he got a look at his flushed face, lips wet and red with a thin string of fluid connecting them to the hard member they had been laving attention on moments before. Throw in his dark, needy eyes and the obvious desire and want in his voice and Alfred had to bite down hard on his lip to keep from coming right then and there.

Alfred glanced down as the Russian's did, taking in the sheer amount of pre-come leaking through his pants. He needed him bad, and so did the American. The blond pulled his lover up, laying back on the bed and tugging Ivan down on top of him. A petite, little nose nuzzled the pale strands at the bottom of the Russian's neck as he wrapped his arms around his middle. "Then have me."

Ivan was not necessarily surprised as he was pulled up, but he did kind of really want his pants off. Actually, he was kind of dying to remove them and to have their bits touch, but Alfred was so nice right now that he couldn't just cast this cuddle aside, either. Between Al's knees, he gives the man a short kiss but then has to back up again. Unbuttoning his pants, he opens them and drags them down. His underwear is clear, now, but was previously white. He peels it off him- contents clinging to both his body and his briefs. Once they hit the floor, he's climbing on top of Alfred, and catching his mouth again.

Considering that Alfred's thighs are already open to him, he doesn't waste much time sucking on his neck and guiding the erection forward. It brushes anus and he eases it in until the head is fully covered. Usually, Ivan would leave bruises on Alfred, but this time- this time he's leaving hickeys.

Aligning his hips, he can almost feel them go into automatic mode, not having to think about them at all as he gets back into the motions. They used to do this a lot- A low, guttural moan is released into Alfred's skin and he enters further, seating himself.

Alfred took the time during which Ivan was stripping above him to enjoy the long stretches of pale skin that was being revealed to him. When the other climbed back on top of him, his long fingers went straight to his coat, deftly unbuttoning the thick jacket so he could push it off his shoulders and feel the smooth skin against his.

He let out a soft keening noise as he was breached, clinging to Ivan as he relaxed into the bed, letting his lover have all of him. For the first time he was glad he had visited the Russian the night before, it would have hurt for the other to try and slid in like this if he wasn't still stretched out from the dogs.

He tilted his head to the side, giving him more space to mark his neck. His legs spread to let the other move closer to him and he sighed in contentment when they were finally joined, feeling full for the first time in ages.

Ivan is in heaven as he is slowly enveloped by heat. It's silky, and warm and tight, and he's already feeling hot enough that he's beginning to perspire. What was it about Alfred that could just drive him absolutely wild? He's trembling, clearly aroused, and he's struggling with the enclosed space pressing around him so taut. Eyes closed, he nuzzles their cheeks together, and then places some sloppy kisses to cheek, and before he even knows it, he's unable to still his hips.

Rocking, he feels electric impulses shooting through him, nestling in his groin and sparking with each thrust. Alfred smells pleasant, smells natural and untainted by perfumes or deodorants. It's apparent that the kid was hiding in his room childishly, but as Alfred takes the entire length in, he's reminded how adult the American has become. Brows are knit, and Ivan doesn't know what to do, save for shudder and keep his pelvis moving. Saliva pools, mouth watering, and he can hardly believe this is even happening. All he needs now is for Al's nails to trail lightly down his back and they might as well have jumped back in time a hundred years.

Using one elbow, he props himself up so there's space for him to reach between them once more in order to lightly stroke over Alfred's length. This was a nice position—not his favorite, but he enjoyed being able to view Alfred's expressions as they twisted.

The feeling of being impaled on Ivan thick shaft was always pleasurable to Alfred, but the feeling of being loved drove his excitement to new levels he hadn't been able to reach for more than a century. Sweat coated his tan skin in a slick layer, making his skin shine in the dim lighting each time he moved. One long leg hooked itself around Ivan's waist, the other helping Alfred rock back against the Russian's thrusts. He closed his eyes when his cheek was nuzzled, a little spark making his heart warm at the gesture as he returned it tenderly.

He wondered what he had done to deserve having someone love him after all he had done. But every little motion told him that he was held in a special space within Ivan's heart and his eyes mist over with sentimental tears. He laid back, simply enjoying their joining and clutching at the Russian's coat, reveling in the feel of it rubbing against his skin as his lover moved. Alfred gasped out as he was stroked, fire burning through his veins as he writhed under the larger man. This was what he needed, to be held and touched and loved by this big man, told he was a wonderful person and cuddled. He wanted to kiss Ivan and tell him how much he loved him and that he was glad he could return his love every day.

His face contorted lightly, his pleasure clearly evident on his face as he met Ivan thrust for thrust, intent on bringing their electric surges to new heights. Ivan told him once that he loved watching his face during sex, that it almost gave him as much pleasure as being inside him and he had given him just that, not withholding his expressions just so he could make his love happy.

In the back of his mind, Ivan wonders whether or not he's touching Alfred enough to make him happy, or if he should be paying more attention to him somehow. Alfred's scent, and his heat, and the way the boy hugged him closer- it was beautiful, and it served to remind him how lonely he was when America and he had separated. Even now, he can handle their abusive relationship because he'd do anything to help, anything to stay important to this man. If his feelings weren't enough, his possessiveness was.

Alfred's hips are rocking, too, fluid and smooth. Even now, their figures mold together. Until right now, Ivan had completely forgotten than he could be calm- that he could be around someone without hurting them.

Breathless, Russian words drawl from his mouth as he's explaining how beautiful Alfred looks like that. Even Al's ears are pink, and his eyes are glossy, and Ivan always thought those blonde lashes were attractive, too. As he examines, he decides to grind their hips together, temporarily, wanting to see how Al's brows knot, and how he bites his lip and-

Shuddering, he has to stop. It's too much, and he's too close, and he's trembling as he stills.

"You do this to me-" His voice is a little too deep, and it cracks near the end. They can wait a second while he calms- let the release ebb away.

Ivan could never know how much being touched made Alfred happy. It didn't have to be sexual, just a simple touch on the shoulder or a little time cuddling and he'd be perfectly happy. Right now, he was touching him enough to make him happy for a very long time and he couldn't get enough of it. He pressed himself closer to the Russian, wanting to be so close that their borders meshed and they could feel each other from one edge of their oceans to the other.

A dark blush covered his cheeks, all the way up to his ears, when Ivan murmured those words of affection Alfred barely understood but know what they meant all the same. Ivan's accent was arousing as hell and it only made him want to get the Russian to talk more, to say more sweet things.

When Russia ground their hips together instead of thrusting into him and bit his lip roughly, brows furrowing together as he grinds into his prostate again and again. He panted as the other stopped, looking up at him with bright eyes, and he's grateful for the reprieve. It's all too much too quickly and he wants it to last, to make it more memorable. He cracked a smile, pulling the Russian down for a quick kiss. "I know, y-you do it to me too..."

The most embarrassing aspect was that he could usually last hours with someone when he was able to keep his mind clear. He was used to abusing people, forcing them to do things, and often he spent time using their bodies to get what he wanted. It was easy enough to maintain control with them, because they didn't matter. Now, he couldn't be holding anything he cared about more, and while he had taken to ignoring those things- burying them away- they were drowning him.

Alfred was seeping into his skin, soaking into his body and Ivan knew it would take some time to expel thoughts of the man from his mind. He'd suffer seeing those faces whenever he closed his eyes, and he'd dream of those sounds and- he'd already done this before. It was like going through his own personal hell, and facing the devastating fact that he would be alone by tomorrow evening.

Lips pressed together, and Ivan can feel the smile there. He returns the grin and the kiss, and even as Alfred speaks, he can feel his member twitching. Just sitting inside was almost too much. All he really wanted to do was thrust a couple more times, but it was more worth it to feel Alfred clinging to him like that. The hug was tight, and they felt close, and Ivan can't help but wish Alfred would come live with him.

His hand was motionless around the man's length, and he could feel the liquid that had leaked over his knuckles. Kissing jawbone, he begins stroking it again, but doesn't move his hips.

Alfred had had many lovers, mostly humans from his country, but none had ever made him feel the same way as Ivan did. His pulse would race and his stomach churned and twisted in the best of way. He would blush and smile and cling to Ivan with all the love he could muster, seeking that comforting touch and that interaction that made him feel alive. These needs woke up again as he clutched his love tightly, relishing the feel of slick skin against his and the fast pulse pushing against his fingertips when he trailed them over his chest and neck.

Knowing that the other was close, gaining pleasure just by being inside him, Alfred clenched around him gently, a light smile gracing his lips as he watched Ivan's face. Why couldn't he have this man every day? Why couldn't they be together?

The blond tilted his chin into the sweet kiss, trembling with raptured pleasure as the large hand surrounding his shaft began moving again, threatening to push him over the edge alone.

The hands moving over him were delicious, and they left him feeling amazing. When they moved along, he could still feel the residual heat and touch and it made him smile a little. Alfred was definitely not good for his business- it would be hard to be cruel and also be around Alfred all the time. How could he manage them? The feelings he had when the other man was around would be too contradictory.

There was a slight change in pressure around his length, and he winced. Eyes closing, he let out a soft exhale and swallowed, wetting his lips. It had sent a spark up through him, and all of his flesh was thrumming with life. This could easily be the end for him, just a couple more of those- he's way too close, and Alfred is... way to close to him. It was silly to think he could hold out with Al right there. They both knew each other's bodies too well.

Would he have to leave when they finished?

That thought alone made it hard to want release.

Leaning, he presses lips to ear, and then tongue slicks over it, and he's telling Alfred all the things he wants to do to him- as he begins to rock his hips again. Yeah, he's too close.

Alfred clenched his hands in Ivan's coat, trembling on the verge of his release and not wanting it to happen yet. He wanted to stay like this, surrounded by Ivan's incredible bulk and feeling safe and loved. He didn't want to go back to his empty life of running his country alone. Sure, he loved his country, but it didn't make for someone to stand beside him and help him through everything, someone that he could in turn help as well.

Ivan's voice was in his ear, a quick, hot lick against the shell and he shivered, listening reverently to all the soft words that the nation whispered. They sent hot shudders all over his body and he almost came from the voice alone, very clearly telling him that he didn't want to leave, that he wanted to stay with Alfred and be with him, even if he didn't speak the words.

Then his hips were moving and he actually was coming, clenching around Ivan and squeezing his eyes closed from the force of it. He arched his back, his body spasming as sparks tingled every inch of his body. "Ngh, Vanya!"

Ivan was impatient with his thrusts, because release was close and although he wanted this to go on, he was aching for it. His hips would snap, and Alfred would moan and it seemed almost too fast before he felt the tightness again, and the spasm around him, and the twitch and throb and-

Heat spills out over his knuckles, and Alfred is clinging to him tightly. It's not much longer before the hectic thrusts evolve into involuntary jerks and Ivan is orgasming as well. Brows knitting, he presses his nose into Al's neck and lets out a shaky exhale into the skin. Hips falter and he stills and God-

His cheeks were burning, and his body was alert, so as the seconds passed by, he merely enjoyed the sound of Alfred's breathing. It was becoming more and more regular as time went on. Waiting inside the boy for a bit longer, he finally leans back- a wet sound as suction is released around his member. Falling free, he leans back and his eyes travel over the body for a moment.

"I wonder how I am going to leave, da? Look at you."

Alfred fell back, sated in physical needs, as his orgasm fell from its crescendo of pleasure. His nerve endings still tingled pleasantly and his breath slowed from the previous frantic pace to a much calmer one.

He looked up at Ivan, twitching and letting out a small moan as Ivan sits back, pulling out of him and leaving him with a disturbingly empty feeling. The boy looked up at the Russian, his chest aching something fierce as he gazed back down at him. He shook his head slowly, bright eyes dulling at the thought that all this, this renewing of their love and the fact that they never wanted to be apart, was for naught. Ivan would leave him and he would be alone again in this big house where everyone hated him for one reason or another and he got attacked for no other reason than being himself.

"You shouldn't." Alfred murmured quietly, turning his head to gaze listlessly at the blinking television. "But you have to..."

Ivan watched Alfred as he buttoned his jacket up. Once he was no longer exposed, he looked the boy over and shook his head in return. Could they manage a love affair? Would that work? Was Alfred secretive enough to keep something like that under wraps? This was absolutely hopeless, wasn't it?

Crouching, he gently takes hold of Alfred's calf, holds it and pressed kisses to the skin. He wants any reason to stay, and vaguely, he wonders if he even needs a good one. More than that, he's finding it difficult to walk towards the door- he seems to only be able to step away from it.

"Nyet, lubovnik, don't letting me go." His tone is pleading, because he knows what happens when he finally heads out. They'll fight again, and hate each other, and Ivan will have no choice but to be especially cold so that Alfred doesn't somehow misunderstand this moment for weakness.

Alfred couldn't watch while Ivan pulled his jacket on, biting his lip hard as he watched his reflection in the TV despite it all. He sat up slowly, looking down at the Russian as his strong calf was held and kissed. How could he stay when they had never worked out in the first place? They fought and hated each other, or so they thought, for the longest time, could they overcome their countries' differences in order to be together? Would the UN stop their relationship before it could even begin again?

Blue eyes pleaded with him wordlessly, wanting him to stay and hold him, to be with him again and never let him go. His long fingers held onto Ivan's hand tightly and he drew his knees to his chest. His shoulders shook and it was hard to breathe with the threat of Ivan's impending departure hanging over him.

"I don't want to." Alfred said, his fingers strong around the Russian's. "I don't want you to leave me, lamb."

His eyes slowly opened as the calf was pulled away. Ah. Well, it's nice that Alfred could be so sensible in a time like this. Ivan felt like he was falling apart all over again. It was almost some renewed hate that he had for the world, bubbling up in his chest. No one deserved to be happy if they couldn't be, and they both knew that their happiness was somewhere far away from here. Maybe if they'd been human.

Glancing up to his enemy, he squeezes back lightly. The slight withdraw had been a reality check. Of course they could never work. He was just pleading and Alfred pulls away. It made sense, now, why he'd been so angry. Had he always been the one following? Probably. Trailing after America, hoping for a glance. Nyet. He deserved better.

It was easier to pull his hand away now, easing it out of the grip, and he distanced himself. Locating pants and tugging them on, he keeps his back to Alfred for as long as possible. This is bitter. It tastes horrible in his mouth. He wants to spit. When situated, he decides it would be best for them to hate each other, because this pain is worse. He has to be the bad guy again. It's like history is repeating itself. He wonders if Alfred will know better.

"You are too easy." Glancing over his shoulder. "Hopefully now you are not causing me more trouble. I am dislike receive phone call from Arthur." He can't turn, because he is frowning, and he feels like he might crumble.

"Calling him so he will leaving me alone, da? My job is done." And with that, he has finished putting on his shoes and he starts towards the door.

Alfred felt his chest hurt, as if a dozen thick swords had been slammed into it and he finally accepted that it was his heart breaking again. Of course Ivan had been playing him. How could he be so simple? The Russian never did anything that didn't have something in it for him. Alfred was just too naive to notice how see-through he was.

Why did Ivan have to mess with him like this? Why did he have to rip his heart out all over again and play with it as if it were nothing more than a hacky sack? It wasn't something you could kick around without negative side-effects and he should know that better than anyone.

It felt wrong, for Ivan to be leaving like this, saying such horrible things to him. But it made sense. Arthur had annoyed him until he came and cheered Alfred up from his two-day slump and now he was leaving after getting some ass and getting the Brit off his back.

He curled his arms around his knees, hiding his face in them so Ivan couldn't see his eyes fall back to their previous dull color. "Alright...make sure you close the door behind you when...you leave..." The boy's voice was muffled by his knees, his thick hair falling over his knees so his face was hidden completely.

Ivan is furious the moment Alfred accepts his bullshit. Of course the man thought so little of him. The words have him pausing at the door- his guilt subsides, but more than he'd like to admit, he has some stray beads of liquid dripping down his face. How it was that this idiot thought Ivan could fake something like that was insulting, but that aside, even, it was disgusting. Alfred clearly didn't know him as well as he'd thought. It used to be that only America could see through him, but it seems no one can, now. That must be what happens when you become good enough at lying.

He wants to turn, wants to beg Alfred to come with him, wants everything but can take nothing. He knows that if Alfred could just see his expression, or even the tears, he'd know it was a ruse, but that's exactly why he can't. Ivan can never let anyone know. Especially not this kid, who was clinging to Ivan like he was holding on to life just moments ago.

Clearing his throat, he can't help himself.

"I am sorry." He turns the handle and steps mostly out. Wiping his face very subtly, he finally looks back. There is the shell of a man sitting on that bed, and he could never, ever, leave Alfred that way. He is now safely away, and he feels pain merely viewing this. Carefully, he closes the door and he holds the knob tightly, nervous that Alfred will attempt to chase. Waiting a moment, he presses his forehead to the wood and closes his eyes. That boy will die in there like this, he's certain, so he raises his voice a little.

Please don't see inside of me.

"I was lying when I am telling you I never loving you." His lips press to the door, and he feels cold.

Alfred felt numb in his chest when Ivan walked out the door, wondering why he was pausing if he really didn't care about him. It used to be that Alfred could tell the instant Ivan was lying, maybe he was losing his touch because he can't tell whether he's tell the truth or not right now. It felt real, painfully so, but it was horribly wrong and the sensation made his gut wrench.

The Russian had never been one to mess with someone's emotion. Torture, yes. Mental pain and scarring, most definitely. But he had never yanked Alfred along like this and the blond felt he would much rather endure any of Ivan's most painful sessions if only he could stop his heart from feeling like it had been dipped in acetone and lit on fire.

He heard him apologize, but for the life of him he couldn't remember why he needed to. Ivan never apologized for anything but the simplest stuff, bumping into someone, getting their name wrong or misunderstanding someone. It was rare for him to apologize for hurting someone or exploiting them. What changed now?

Alfred looked up, catching Ivan's eye before the door closes and he felt a tear drip down the side of his face. More followed it and soon his face was wet. He had known Ivan was lying, deep down, but the message never got to his brain. But it had been said too late, the damage was already done. His love had been rekindled and set aflame, it had never really been tramped out, and now it was being snatched away from him as quickly as it had returned. He would mourn his lost happiness again, pining for the day when they could ignore their allegiances to their countries and be together without fear of attack from other countries. If Ivan even wanted him anymore.

There had been no sign of movement, and he felt a bit of relief. Leaning back, he releases the knob and turns on his heel. Alfred should be in there crying and if Ivan was normal, he'd be crying too. Except, he'd learned years ago how to distance himself from feeling, and after a deep breath and walking down stairs, he opens his eyes and it's almost like none of that ever happened. Almost. If his body didn't still remember the warmth, then he'd be in the clear. Except, well, the only thing his body could ever remember was the faintest heat from that one, singular man.

Considering his options, he spots one of the unplugged phones in the living room, and plugs it back in. Arthur will be wanting to hear from Al, soon, and if anything, will be relieved to find that calls go through and simply remain unanswered. It's a baby step.

Stepping outside, into the warmth, he just wants to bask. He wants sunflowers. He wants Alfred. He wants everything, wants to give everything, wants a hand in his own. Eyes closed, he feels like he is ice that is melting, and he wishes he had it within him to walk back inside. Stuffing both hands in his pockets, he feels something cold. His cell. He should leave now, but he can't. Ivan is cruel, but not like this. He doesn't lie about these things.

A familiar number is dialed, and he is walking away. He hopes to leave a message. He is down the driveway by the time it picks up.

Alfred stared around his suddenly empty room for a while after Ivan left, listening to his solid footsteps recede down the hall. He slowly laid down on his side on the sweat soaked bed sheets, tugging his blanket over his cold body despite the mess he was. The soft fabric felt nice against his skin but he barely noticed.

This was how he had felt all those years ago when his heart had been broke for the first time. Bitter and alone, not wanting to be able to feel so the pain would stop. Was this how Ivan had felt when they first separated? Or was he just unfeeling?

A cheery ringtone blared from his bedside table and he rolled over, figuring it was Arthur and that he should tell him that he was fine and not to worry. A slim hand patted around the table until his fingers came into contact with the vibrating phone and drew it under the blanket with him. Not bothering to check the number, who else would be calling him?, he cleared his throat and answered the phone with his usual cheery attitude. "Yo, Arthur, sorry I didn't answer your calls, but I'm all cool now."

There was a happy, pleasant voice on the end, and Ivan is displeased with this fucking boy and his stupid tone. Does he fake for Arthur? It seems so. It appears the only person he doesn't put on a front for is Ivan- that makes him a little happy. A lot, rather.

"Is that so?" His voice is thick with accent, disapproving. Ivan pauses for a moment, allowing Alfred to register who it is, and then he wets his lips- the sound audible over the phone. "Do not speaking until I am finish." After a break, he continues.

"I can never letting you go. I am liking to pretending I can, but is impossible. Even when we are hating each other, I opening my door and giving you what you need." Ivan is watching his feet trample grass, and enjoying it. He is used to the crunch of snow, so this is pleasant. It may be chilly here, but it doesn't permeate entirely.

"I am cannot leaving you when you are holding my hand like this, da? I am wanting you to know, that the heart I having, or what is left of it, is yours. It always was." Now, he brings a gloved hand to his mouth and waits, not sure how else to continue. He is far enough that Alfred can't run out and catch him, but he hates this.

"I will being cold to you as usual. But sometimes, da? Sometime, let me be warm. Only for a little. This is what I am needing from you. Don't clinging, don't asking me to stay. If you are silent, I can doing it. Please, let me have."

Alfred jumped when he heard the thick voice, heavy with disapproval, on the other end. He swallowed his tongue when Ivan started speaking, falling quiet as he spoke. The American had to remind himself not to clench his hand too tightly or else he would crush his fragile phone into dust.

He only had to be quiet, to not obey his heart's wish and ask the Russian to stay with him even if he hadn't in the bedroom. If he was quiet and let Ivan do what he wanted then he could have him on occasion, have tiny little hidden away moments of peace with the man he loved. All he would have to do was pretend he didn't love Ivan, that he didn't want him to stay with him forever, and that he really hated him every other second of the day.

"No." His voice was soft, but firm. Alfred squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head beneath the covers and the sound of his hair brushing against fabric was increased by the surrounding blanket. "I need more than a few minutes every once in a while." It was hard to push the words out, but her knew it wouldn't work with what Ivan was suggesting. It would all feel like a lie then. "I don't want to be hidden away and pretend like I don't love you and that I don't want to stay with you. If you want me, need me, even in the least, then you will not try and hide me in the dark so you can steal away a few moments of peace and love before going back outside and fighting." He bit his lip so hard he tasted blood. "It is either everything or nothing. No gray area, no in between, no this and that, nothing. You either want me completely or you will not get me."

"Firstly, Lubovnik, it is not me who is hiding you. Is always has been the other way around. You will being the one judged, not I." He has stopped walking, glancing around at trees. Ivan is manipulative. There is no way he could ever say what Alfred is saying now. So he suggests the most painful solution, and he can only hope that his other half will never accept it. Even now, he is relieved when Alfred says no and demands more.

He wonders whether it would be beneficial to maintain a solid front, because he needs to be strong and needs to be seen as strong. Clearing his throat, he intentionally does not smile, just so it can't be heard over the phone.

"You are giving me ultimatum?" Ivan has been reminded just now about one of the many things that has endeared Alfred to him. Thinking it over, he doesn't want the man to know that his answer was instantaneous and without question.

"If this is so, then..." Taking in a slow breath, "I am wanting you 'completely'. You will be the one to suffer, Alfred. I have no one, I cannot be hurt. You can. You will be. But I will being there to hold you. I cannot helping what my boss is want, same for you, but if it is within my power, I will not letting you go."

Alfred felt a surge of electricity go through him. Was he saying what he thought he was saying? The blond sat up, the blanket puddling around his waist. He didn't care if he was hurt, he could protect his family and friends.

"Ivan, you underestimate your power over your boss." He told him softly, cupping his hand around the phone. Now he just had to stop the other nation from leaving. "If you want me, then why are you running away?"

Ivan never runs away, he would never leave without finishing things completely. Alfred stared at the dark ceiling and wrapped his free arm around his knees. "Why aren't you here where you should be instead of running back to Russia where you can think over what you said and did and try to come up with the best solution for you?"

"If you are wanting me, why are you not chase?" Already, he had stopped when the situation began changing, and had turned on his heels in the opposite direction. It was only a matter of time before the man's house was in view, but he stood there by an apple tree, unwavering.

"Do not playing games with me, Alfred, you knowing you will not win. If you are wanting me to return, you only having to say so- You are not needing to tricking me." With this, he continued towards the building, but stayed on the phone. It was kind of adorable when the American felt it necessary to try and manipulate the situation, especially when it involved Ivan. Like somehow he had no idea.

"Are you going to greeting me at door, da?"

"I've been chasing after you for longer than you realize." Alfred said quietly, getting up and wrapping his blanket around his shoulders. He sighed as he opened the door, shaking his head at Ivan's thickness. "There should be no winners or losers when we play games."

Despite himself he found his front door in front of him in no time at all. "Ivan...Vanya...please don't run from me again." He murmured quietly, clutching the drooping blanket around his naked shoulders fiercely, not keeping the pleading tone from his voice.

"Nyet, Lub, I am knowing." His tone was sweet then, and the smile finally cracked. He could feel the edges of his eyes crinkle then, too, as the door opened and Alfred was standing there. He was in a blanket, cold, defeated, but there was hope there and Ivan didn't bother with his phone from that point forward. It dropped from his fingers as he reached and picked the other man up in a hug.

The step into the house was easy, and he tapped it closed with his foot. Leaning back against it, he just holds the man for a minute carefully adjusting the blanket so it was up over the naked skin. Ivan can't offer much heat, so Alfred has to radiate it himself.

"How can I running from you? There is nowhere in the world where you are not able to finding me."

Alfred held himself back from throwing himself at Ivan when he opened the door and a quiet sigh of contentment left his lips as he was pulled into his arms. He leaned against him, closing his eyes and tucking his nose into the junction of Ivan's shoulder and neck, breathing in his scent as if to memorize it.

"You're not getting away from me anymore." The blond promised firmly. "I will track you anywhere you try to hide, even if you go to North Korea. I will fuck that bitchy dude up and drag you back."

There was an innate need to push Alfred, to see if that were true; how far would the man actually follow him? If he disappeared, would Al search? It was a little cruel to consider it, but he really wanted to know the depth to which Alfred was willing to go. Of course, whether or not he'd have the ability to test it all out was another thing; Alfred probably wouldn't let the man out of his sight for a while.

"Haha, first I am running, now I am hide? You wound me." Tilting his chin down, he nuzzles his nose into hair, and then kisses scalp. How long had it been since he'd been so affectionate? It was pleasant- it was an outlet for his needs. It was somewhere to put his attention; a healthy place.

"You will come staying with me sometimes, too, da?"

Alfred nodded, the top of his hair brushing against Ivan's chin. "As many times as you want." He promised, simply luxuriating in the feeling of having someone to hold after so many years.

The strong chest in front of him was something he had not felt in decades and his body had missed it terribly. Though he was glad Ivan had not called him out on his boasted spy like chase abilities. He was far too tired right now, physically and most definitely emotionally.

"Will you just lay down with me?" He asked, wondering if he was asking too much affection from the Russian so soon. After all, Ivan hardly ever showed any type of affection and the simple touches now were more than all Alfred had seen since they first separated.

There was a question of limits. Did Ivan have them? And more importantly, did he recognize them? One thing Ivan hated was not having control, especially over himself. He'd spent a long time forcing involuntary reactions into voluntary ones, and now, after having pushed everyone away, he wonders if intimacy is something he can do. Well, at least, as much as Alfred needed- which despite anything his little American might say, is actually quite a lot.

At the question, he decides that pride has no place in what they have- it never did- so he nods.

"Da. I can doing this." Just from the way Alfred is speaking, Ivan can tell the boy is weak, and so he easily picks him up again. This time, he lifts his friend as if he might be carrying a small child to bed; cradles his head and bottom.

"I will even holding you, mm?" Sitting on the bed, he lies back and flips the blanket over them- leaving Alfred attached to his front.

Alfred snuggled down against him, running his hand over the puffy jacket front as his cheek rested against it. He tugged the blanket over his head, darkness closing in around him and his reflective body heat warming the tiny space. He stopped and listened, to the sound of Ivan and his breathing, to the light patter of his heart in his ears, the gentle brush of fabric against his bed sheets. It was all peaceful and like this he felt at home more than he had in the last hundred years.

His blond mop of hair barely stuck out from under the blanket and the mound that was Alfred's back rose in a gentle huff of air as he wrapped his arms around Ivan's torso as much as he could in their position and tangled their legs together, feeling that this was his place, here in Ivan's arms. "This feels right."

The clothing he wore was bulky and somewhat uncomfortable- especially compared to how their skin was touching even thirty minutes ago. Now, he's left with heat sinking in through the fabric. As he lies there, his eyes sink closed and he wonders if he's made a mistake somewhere along the way, if maybe this was a horrible idea.

Gloves on, he reaches down and brushes Alfred back a bit. He opens the top couple buttons and pulls the jacket apart so Al can touch skin. It would be easier to hear his heart this way, or to feel anything, really.

"Is nice. You are very warm, da? I am not too cold?"

Alfred curled up on his chest, stretching his body out beside Ivan's as he cuddled against him under the blanket. He nodded sleepily, head on his chest as he slid one hand into his jacket, gently caressing the skin he found.

"This if perfect." He slurred drowsily, relaxing against him and getting tired faster than he could remember for a long time. Probably because he hadn't been this relaxed in years, decades. His blue eyes slid closed and he jerked a little, snapping them back open with some will power. Sleepiness was not going to stop him, he would make sure that Ivan kept his promise and didn't leave him again, didn't sneak out while he was incapacitated. That wouldn't bode well for the Russian if he tried it.

There were only a couple times in the night when Ivan had adjusted and woke because he was unaccustomed to sleeping with another body. Especially not one that was wrapped so tightly against him, either. It wasn't until the light came up that he realized they'd both fallen asleep murmuring about how so and so better be there in the morning. By then, Ivan had already watched the blonde male sleep for a few hours. As a bastard, it's been difficult to cope with all the affection he felt towards Alfred- it seemed that it was unending.

The boy was cuddled into Ivan's right arm, clutching the fabric at his chest. His face was soft, brows relaxed, and lips parted. His breath was quiet, came in gentle gusts, and before he knew it, Vanya was petting skin. Fingers caressed cheek, and thumb brushed over lower lip and not only did he want to give the man everything, he wanted to take everything. Although he recognized that this was unhealthy, he was also fully aware that his desire for Alfred was not purely physical.

Without much use of his main capillary, Ivan has found it easy to ignore those baser impulses. He has forgotten compassion and decency, and has been capable of embracing colder, crueler responses instead. Here, like this, cradling his dreams and honestly, he was holding his heart; his conscience. The room is dimly lit, curtains drawn, and he shifts, pulling the coat from his body and tossing it aside- finally deciding to stay. Scooping Alfred into his grip, he tugs blanket up further and drapes the boy's legs over Ivan's hips- wanting him as close as possible.

Alfred slept soundly that night, curled up into Ivan's chest as if he belonged there. On occasion, the other would shift and Alfred would wake a little, scooting after him and burrowing back into the little space allocated to him before drifting off again.

It had been so long since he had had someone in his bed that he actually cared for. The other may be a cold ruthless bastard, but here, holding him in his arms gently, he was nothing but the man Alfred loved more than anything. And it felt so right to be there beside him once again.

Fingers, soft and inquisitive, dancing across his cheek and lips, stirred the boy from his sleep and his muddled brain told him that he had failed to stay up and ensure that Ivan wouldn't leave him. When the warm, firm body beside him shifted, Alfred his eyes flutter open curiously. There was Ivan, coatless and with a determined look about him. The blond watched him sleepily, entranced by his silhouette and his fluid movements as he laid back down.

He let out a surprised breath when he was scooped up and rearranged. Though he quickly adapted and snuggled as close as he could to the Russian. This was wonderful. Ivan had stayed and now he wanted him to be close to him. Alfred couldn't be happier because the one person who he wanted, wanted him back just as much. He could give him his heart and everything he had and the other wouldn't leave him like he had before.

As he settled into his new, intimate position atop the Russian, he peered out from under the blanket draped halfway over his head. His eyes shone a bright sapphire as he looked up at Ivan through his bangs. In a whisper, clutching at his shirt, he murmured, "You stayed."

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